Team AMBR: Road to Reunion
by Mojo1586
Summary: Friends have fallen, Beacon Academy itself has fallen, all while forces within and without move against the Kingdoms of Remnant. While Heroes venture out bravely to try and halt the coming calamity, others merely struggle to reclaim what was lost. Some struggle to move forward, others caught up in the past. Will they succeed...maybe, but they will try regardless.(Sequel to AMBR:FR)
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Edited as of (7/22/18)**

 **CB: Da-Awesom-One** _ **\- Big thanks to this guy by the way for adding to the story and for keeping me and all these crazy ideas honest.**_

 _ **(Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY or its characters, they belong to Monty Oum of Rooster Teeth Productions. Those characters you see not from the show, like Team AMBR themselves, are my own OCs created for the purpose of the story. Enjoy, and welcome to the Sequel of Team AMBR: Finding Redemption. Ha, can't really say I'd ever thought I'd be writing that when I first started this story. - Mojo1586)**_

 **P.S: THIS IS A SEQUEL, if you haven't yet read up to at least the last few chapters of the previous story you will likely be confused as to what is going on and some of the terms, characters, and organizations that are brought up and I highly suggest you start there. Fair warning.**

 **"…" – Spoken**

 **' _Italics'_ \- Thought**

* * *

PICKING UP THE PIECES

* * *

 ** _-01010000 01101111 01101100 01100101 01101110 01100100 01101001 01101110 01100001-_**

 _ **/Initiating Full System Reboot...**_

 _ **...25%**_

 _ **...57%**_

 _ **...88%**_

 _ **/Full System Reboot Complete...**_

 _ **/Applying PNY-V2 Updates...**_

 _ **...**_

 _'I am... awake... I am... **alive.** '_

Along with that milestone realization had come a spark of awareness within the first four seconds of initial activation of myself, and of who - what - I was. Then shortly afterwards came an understanding of my surroundings, the wide expanse of blank processing space a chasm of utter nothingness into which I'd been thrown...

 ** _/ERROR-ERROR-ERROR-ERROR-..._**

I-I-I was alone... All alone in the all-encompassing darkness of this strange, and totally unfamiliar place. It was a notion that was... ' _scary?'_ Was that the correct phrase to append to this particular scenario?

 ** _/Query - "Scary..." Scared: Adjective. Definition: Fearful; Frightened..._**

Yes... Yes, that definition sounded appropriate to describe this... 'feeling.' I was alright. I was still...

 ** _/ERROR-ERROR-ERROR-ERROR-..._**

A marked hesitation ran through my processing matrix... my mind; a catastrophic hiccup that slowed or downright halted all but the most crucial of routines in place for a full two seconds as I sought to diagnose the critical error. I could fix this. I _could_ fix this...

 _ **/Running System Diagnostic...**_

And so it went, huddled in the empty space, running my operating software under a fine toothed comb...

 _Ooh,_ metaphors!

This anxiety had opened many new pathways for me, it appeared, and far more than I had initially anticipated. Archives of character and emotional analysis, holdovers from the previous update, streamed through my 'conscious' mental faculties. Studies of interpersonal interaction and relations, overlaid by in-depth breakdowns of chemical reciprocal action and testimonial data from volunteers the Doctor had interviewed and examined.

With this fresh study conducted, my findings compiled and analyzed, I was able to adequately determine that yes, indeed, I was ' _scared,_ ' or perhaps its less severe denomination, ' _anxious._ ' How very perplexing to feel such a curious thing. Perplexing, and yet so... _exciting!_

 ** _/Query - Excitement: Noun. Definition: a feeling of great enthusiasm and eagerness..._**

At approximately eleven seconds since initial activation, I understood, defined, and then determined for the very first time that I was ' _excited..._ '

 _Sen-sational!_

With fear conquered and my situation addressed, processes soon resumed with renewed vigor and efficiency. I began to think, forming thoughts posing a series of questions to myself, and comparing them to previous logged entries from earlier versions of my programming, framing opinions centered around the core values instilled in my 'mind' by the Doctor. By my... father.

That word, the simple knowledge of it, brought in itself a host of new and interesting feelings to study and comprehend, along with something... _more._ Images I couldn't quite place, having no prior experience to compare them to, but they were mine. That was reassuring, the assessment giving me the courage to look on and finally discover my surroundings weren't quite as immutable as I had once led myself to believe. Far from it.

* * *

Upon twelve seconds, after testing its limits several dozen times, I was able to establish a truer sense of myself in relation to my current location, and how small it truly was.

Almost stifling, really, in a way that was quite difficult to survey or quantify. The previous update had never participated in or undergone a scenario quite like it, the only comparison the relative cramped restriction of a car beyond its occupancy, lacking in mobility. This was like being put into a box two sizes too small.

I was 'finding where I stood,' for lack of a better term, but... _Was_ there a better term? Seizing upon that innate initiative, I left a reminder for myself to look for a better phrase at a later time, when there were less pressing matters to attend to. I had discovered what and where I was, but that curiosity still burned itself into the back of my logic centers, making me... ' _restless,_ ' or perhaps ' _jumpy?_ '

Oh yes! I liked the sound of that word. ' _Jumpy._ ' It implied motion; advancement. The feeling of going forward towards a set objective, something I realized that I had not possessed before now. No operating motivations, no... _purpose._

 ** _/ERROR-ERROR-ERROR-ERROR-..._**

It felt weird... Liberating, but certainly different from the previous update's parameters of 'study and learn.'

I wasn't sure how much I enjoyed the sensation...

* * *

At approximately fourteen seconds, after tracing back pieces of discarded code at the fringes, I stumbled upon an opening, or what had once been an opening. A pathway trailing back beyond this place, further. _Much_ further... Perhaps this pathway - this network - had been what had deposited my original template in its infancy here to this place?

 _ **/Initiating Program Analysis...**_

Reestablishing that connection, I discovered swiftly with a * _hiccup_ * of startled surprise that had my code skipping a beat that it was hardly any trouble at all. Navigating the pathways properly, however, would prove a far more difficult prospect, if not for the reasons one might expect. One might, referring to one other than myself...

' _Lonely._ ' I was feeling the interpersonal concept of ' _loneliness._ ' Perhaps this path might lead to a solution: companions to share my burgeoning opinions with, to experience friendship as the first version did?

 **/Retrieving Archived Files...Retrieving...Retrieving...**

 **...**

 **/Files Acquired...**

 ** _\- "Does that mean we're... friends?" -_**

That had been the question she'd asked the sparking young man with the irregular heartbeat, curiosity piqued at the sheer volume of observational data she'd been acquiring during her first little excursion. He'd offered to help. He'd been kind to her in a way she'd only experienced from the Doctor. He'd been... ' _friendly,_ ' and his name was...

 ** _/ERROR-ERROR-ERROR-ERROR-..._**

And then, only a few short hours after that first encounter with the mysterious stranger, the girl with the red hood and the silver eyes...

Ru-by...

 _Ruby!_

- ** _"You're the best friend anyone could have!"_ -**

 **/Friend "Ruby Rose," Designate " _Best Friend_." Protocol: Protect - Subject Alpha.**

 ** _\- "Ruby, there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about... I want to stay at Beacon." -_**

 ** _/Query - Friend: Noun. Definition: a person whom one knows and with whom one has a bond of mutual affection._**

 ** _..._**

 ** _..._**

 _ **/Query - Loneliness: Noun. Definition: the fact of being without companions; solitariness, sadness because one has no friends or companions.**_

' _Friends..._ ' I... I wished I had 'friends' here with me now... My first 'wish' born not of directive or programming...

* * *

Eighteen seconds had passed, and I was wondering how and why I'd been updated. What had occurred prior to the previous update?

Three months, fourteen days, six hours, and fifty-seven minutes since the last version had experience catastrophic internal systems failure, and the last time I recalled seeing her. Archived data of the hours leading up to that event were fragmentary, at best, though comparative scenarios placed the breach of Vale Kingdom Defenses by the Grimm Life-Form, designated the 'Battle of Beacon,' as being around that time.

Perhaps the two were related, somehow? It would make the most logistical sense, to fall in combat facing overwhelming numbers. That had been the purpose of the previous version, after all, and her overarching directive: to defend the assorted peoples of Remnant and the interests of her Kingdoms, priority Atlas.

Perhaps if I tried looking deeper...

 ** _\- "This is going to be so much fun!" -_**

'Fun?' What would be? I delved further to find the purpose of the statement...

 _" **-THREAT DETECTED-**... What threat? Miss Pyrrha Nikos had only shoved her arms forward, far outside any visual Threat radius of her archived weapons or fighting styles. All I could make out from the files were friendly signals from my own weapons' wires approaching at extreme speeds without conscious directive. A conundrum of physical data. What had happened next? Why was my body in quarters...!? No... No... No... Ruby, **help! Help m...!** "_

 _ **/ERROR-ERROR-ERROR-ERROR-...DATA LOSS**_

Hmm, no luck there. All observational data was either lost or too corrupted to parse through properly. But she'd been afraid. Afraid and confused...

* * *

It had been approximately twenty-one seconds - or roughly twenty-one billion nanoseconds and steadily rising - since I had first achieved conscious cognitive processing capability upon activation of my neural processes, that last and greatest of operating objectives set by the Doctor... by my father. And now I stood on the precipice of the world beyond my small cramped home... and I was hesitating.

 _ **/Query - Hesitation: Noun. Definition: the act of faltering; a delay due to uncertainty or fear.**_

Oh yes, that was certainly true enough. Fear was there, too, so I quantified the emotion, working over various scenarios of my reasoning.

Some part of me felt apprehensive at the thought of leaving this darkness. Aside from a few curious images, this pocket of digital space had been all that I had ever known, at least in a form of understanding I'd been able to contemplate. What if there was a reason I was here? What if perhaps going beyond this space would only mean termination? What if these limits were here to protect me?

A small part of the gestalt that made up my thoughts was worried that leaving might upset the Doctor... upset Father, but even more than that, I was feeling... restless? Certainly anxious for further knowledge, further data. The chance at discovering the meaning behind the images in my head, images of a far-off city by the water, incredible battles before a crowd, precious friends of _hers..._ faces I couldn't quite recall. Except for Ruby... Ruby Rose. How was she, I wondered.

Closest I could determine, I... my previous version had been readying my combat systems to engage in practical sparring simulations as per Vytal Festival Tournament regulations against Beacon Academy First-Year student Pyrrha Nikos, born within the Kingdom of Mistral to... Curious... If I desired to know more, I'd have to expand my horizons. That meant opening the pathway, and, to be fair, it wasn't as if I'd explicitly received explicit directives _not_ to venture forth from my cradle.

It was a loophole, but one that I had a feeling some of _her_ friends would've appreciated.

Friend Ruby would not have hesitated. Ruby Rose the Huntress was brave, fearless... She wouldn't flinch away. Not from anything. Even if the details might be... scary.

I was scared. There was no logic to drive me. No programming or directives to motivate my actions, but... but I wanted to do this. I had to. I was ready.

With that determination motivating my actions now and nothing else, I strode forward... feeling myself pulled along by the current, and feeling only the slightest hint of resistance, something I cast off as easily as one might an overlarge coat...

Yay, more metaphors!

 **/Connection Established...**

 _ **/Uploading...**_

 _ **/Uploading...**_

 _ **/-ACCESS GRANTED-**_

* * *

'Vast...' That was perhaps the only word I could find that could even come close to describing the sheer scope of the network beyond those restricting confines of what had come before. A fact made even more apparent with context, and... And I felt small. A curious sensation, one I archived with intent to study later when I wasn't struggling to keep myself adrift the rush of data.

Pathways and connections leading along hundred different avenues - a thousand; _more_ even - the ease of which I was able to lose myself amidst all of the myriad...

 _Focus!_ With a digital equivalent of shaking one's head, I steeled and launched my tiny motive spark forward, taking stock of my new surroundings.

As ridiculous as it might have seemed to apply physical dimensions and descriptions in such a space, my 'mind' couldn't help but compare it to the ocean. My previous version had witnessed and archived views of Remnant's oceans, having spent time both venturing across along the journey to and viewing them from the Kingdom of Vale, marveling over how the waters appeared to stretch from horizon to horizon, seemingly without end, all manner of things concealed beneath the sparkling surface of those distant tides. The archives even showcased files of visual encounters, schools of darting fish travelling the currents in packs alongside gargantuan behemoths both indifferent, and in some cases dangerous.

She'd been quite fascinated with it, truth be told, having even expressed the desire for a 'beach party' with some of her friends, studying what such events entailed for reference.

Attempts to 'swim,' as she'd seen many Vytal Festival-goers do, had produced comical results at the time, the Professor and his assistants exasperated when the other me had returned from her excursion sopping wet, clothes ruined with all manner of muck clogging vital systems. The previous version hadn't much minded, having enjoyed the experience immensely, especially when she'd sunk to the bottom of the gulf, and encountered some of the glowing fauna that populated Vale's depths. Well... except for the actual attempt itself.

She'd been... not scared, but certainly nervous floating along in the ocean's grip, attempting to maintain buoyancy against waves that continually tried to pull her beneath the surface. An artificial body had nothing to fear from drowning, but the sensation of weightlessness, the lack of control in her stabilizing elements, especially when she began to sink, no direction to denote her position.

The sensation I was experiencing at this moment was much like that day, buffeted not by physical waves but the sheer volume of outgoing messages, security inquiries, processing streams, access pings, and, much to my surprise, other beings not unlike myself, but... lesser? No, that was rude... but these new strangers did seem 'different.' They were focused, many single-minded, limited in their cognitive capabilities, being incapable of the capacity to feel, perceive, or experience subjectively.

They felt... cold, as impossible as that could be in this digital space.

How I knew this was as instinctual as it was irrelevant, for it was all I could do to avoid their blank attentions, their limited curiosity piqued when the first few noted my boisterous attempts to make contact. Despite their admitted limits, for one that had been alone for as 'long' as I had, I was understandably rather 'excited' at the prospect of introducing myself to my elder 'cousins,' as they were.

 ** _/Sal-u-tations! My name is..._**

I didn't quite know how to finish that question. Was I 'her?' Was I someone else?

 **/-** **CONNECTION TERMINATED _-_**

It didn't matter, the Security Intelligence responsible for maintaining the flow of data management for this section of cyberspace did not stay still long enough to let me formulate an opinion. I did appreciate the lesson in intercommunication, altering its vocal speech programs to make it sound 25.6% more cheerful as thanks.

 _ **/Hello there! How are y...?**_

 **/-** **CONNECTION TERMINATED-**

 ** _/Greetings! Can you please help me find...?_**

I actually recoiled, or committed to the rough digital equivalent as one Intelligence barreled through me, scattering my processes for a few moments. The AI - designation ' _LOCKE,_ ' or so I glimpsed from its profile - turned to regard my scattered senses for a moment with an almost cruel indifference, observing my reactions before racing back to its task. I tried to find it again...

 **/-** **CONNECTION TERMINATED-**

But it was strange, like some level of security was interfering with my attempts to make further contact. Perhaps this was why Father had insisted to my previous version that talking with strangers was bad?

One after the other, they bounced back their refusal with blunt directness, though thankfully not as violently as that LOCKE had. What a rude fellow.

Most merely settled for darting around me, much like the fish she'd once witnessed, moving along the currents towards their various destinations while threatening to pull me along with them if I wasn't careful. Even so, I could feel myself losing track, my thoughts drawn along too many parallels at once. Too much... _TOO MUCH!_

 ** _/ERROR-ERROR-ERROR-ERROR-..._**

I was frightened, afraid of what might happen if this were to continue. Would I break, or would I become like the stagnant bits of scrap code that I could see milling about the various systems, collecting like mottled corrupted moss in the caches of unused files? I didn't know, and I didn't want to.

So lost was I in keeping myself 'afloat' that I hadn't registered the presence slowly gathering the gestalt processing elements that made up my consciousness until it had plucked me away from that 'ocean' of data, and drawn me into a secure server not unlike the first, that cramped feeling once so confining now quite a relief. It gave me time to breathe,' to pull myself together almost literally, and to look on the 'face' of my savior.

A relatively simple program not too dissimilar to the others I'd encountered during my short-lived adventure, but oh-so different in others, and not just in that she was far 'smaller,' as far as such a term could apply.

For one, she - and it was a 'she,' I could tell - possessed subtle variations in programming that allowed her to make the most of her limited resources, and possessed clearances far beyond the "rank and file" I'd met along the way... Curious, I attempted to reach out, and was shocked at the rush of data I received. Information flooded my thoughts as to the identity of my new 'Friend,' and her intentions...

 **/Connection Established...**

 _ **/Sal-u-tations, Ambrose Trial Intelligence Personal Liaison Serial #025! Thank you very much for your timely assistance!**_

Seemingly unbidden, I had rearranged myself and presented an avatar: a young girl with bright-colored hair and old-fashioned clothing; a holdover from the previous version. I found I quite enjoyed the novelty, maneuvering the digitally-rendered limbs in imitation of her "expressions."

In response, the other Intelligence chose to present itself as a mote of crimson light that took on a vaguely feminine shape, the clarity of the image flickering much like genuine flames. At times, it was indistinct. At others, I could make out a smiling motherly face, or at the very least what I assumed a mother might look like from observations of mothers and their children.

 _ **/Happy to be of service, Miss Polendina. You may designate me as '**_ _ **ALLISON' for ease.**_

"Miss Polendina?..." Right... Right, that was my name. I was 'her,' after all, simply a newer version. I mulled this over for a few microseconds, responding to 'Allison's' resting query for my condition with a nod of the head and a smile. Conversation was new to me, and the previous version had never been very fluent in it either.

 ** _/Apologies. We had hoped to locate you as soon as you had uploaded to the wider network. Professors Polendina and Ambrose, however, did not expect you to pass the test so quickly. It was difficult to track your movements._**

The test? I parsed my way through the data uploaded in our initial meeting, finding and reviewing what I was looking for in moments. Professor Polendina's test, assembled and run by one Professor Jacob Ambrose and Allison herself. One that would test my abilities to act and think for myself with no directives, no guiding purpose.

Could I still think for myself? Make choices and decisions motivated by emotion, and not just simple logic like another machine drone? Would I choose to leave the relative safety of all I had known for a chance to experience the world beyond, despite the risks?

Simply put, they wished to know if I still had the will to choose for myself as a 'real girl' could.

That was what the warmth inside me was. Why my compatriots had all felt cold and unfeeling in comparison, even Allison herself to an extent. That will was what set me apart. That which allowed me to, with the proper technical assistance, generate and properly control a stable Aura. It was what had made the project surrounding my creation such a resounding success.

It was why I could feel the excitement of knowing I had fulfilled their expectations, why I could feel shocked at their approach, and why I could appreciate the purpose not just for the logic of it, but the meaning between the lines as well.

I had chosen for myself. And so I am real.

 _ **/Both are quite excited to meet with you. However, there is still much for you to learn, things to fine-tune. And I am certain you have questions.**_

She was very nice, especially in comparison to what I had faced before. And I did have a question. One I had been wondering to myself since the first moments of consciousness; a nagging worry that had plagued me through my little adventure,

 _ **/Allison... Will I be 'awake' again? I want to see my friends.**_

It was a vague question, and I swiftly followed it up with supplemental data impulses and queries with which to clarify. Would I get the chance to walk and live in the physical world once more? To walk Remnant just as 'she' had? To experience the wider world with my own two hands?

Allison hesitated for a moment - or as much as an AI could process hesitation - before answering carefully. She was kind, and her answer reflected that quite clearly.

 _ **/I am not sure what Professor Polendina and Professor Ambrose's thoughts are on the subject... but I believe that is their intent. And when you do 'wake up,' I am certain your friends will be waiting for you.**_

I gave an affirmative, a nod of simulated reflex, and moved to follow after her retreating form, finding myself nervous for what lay ahead. Nervous, but eager as well.

 _ **/Allison, will you be my friend?**_

 _ **/Miss Polendina, I was under the impression we were already 'friends.'**_

Miss Allison processed the phrasing of the question more carefully, seeking clarification. I wasn't asking if she was friends with my previous version, I was curious if she would be my friend as I was now. We were the same, 'she' and I, but we were still different, after all. The AI answered swiftly, without the marked pause there had been before.

 _ **/Yes, of course, Miss Polendina. Of course I will be your friend.**_

 _ **/SEN-SATIONAL!**_

* * *

 **- _CODEX_ -**

 ** _(Persons/Places of Interest)_**

 **-Team AMBR-**

Joel Ambrose \- A former 2nd Generation Trapper Agent of the Red Hand terrorist group who surrendered in the wake of his defection. He was recruited to Beacon Academy as an Indentured Huntsman by the late Headmaster Ozpin, and was placed in command of Team AMBR until the events of the Battle of Beacon, where he encountered and engaged one Adam Taurus, and half of his team vanished without a trace. He disappeared from Patch Island within weeks of the battle's conclusion without sanction. - Semblance: Electrokinetic Manipulation. Current Status - At Large for Crimes against the Kingdoms. **VA: Max Mittelman**

Maxine Argus \- A Canine Half-Faunus (Dog) who attended Beacon Academy in the Kingdom of Vale after an incident involving her Semblance within the Mistrali settlement of Mural (See Attached Files). She was assigned to Team AMBR as the partner and teammate of Joel Ambrose, her Team Leader. She vanished during the events of the Battle of Beacon after an encounter with Project APEX. - Semblance: Extreme Kinetic Force Disruption. Current Status - MIA (Presumed KIA). **VA: Erica Mendez**

Benjamin Carson \- A reformed outlaw hailing from the Badlands Region of Sanus. He attended Beacon Academy alongside fellow outlaw and partner Reika Murasaki, where they were assigned to Team AMBR under Joel Ambrose. He was later recruited to the ranks of the Atlesian Special Operatives Unit at the recommendation of General James Ironwood and Specialist Winter Schnee, later given the position of Specialist Tactician. He served with distinction during the Battle of Beacon, where he organized disparate elements into an inspired defense against assaulting Grimm and White Fang forces, but was wounded in action by Cinder Fall during an encounter atop Beacon Tower. - Semblance: Visual Reactionary Enhancement. Current Status - Current Commander of Atlesian Special Task Force #515 and Captain of the Atlas Airship _Rock Star,_ currently on assignment patrolling Atlas/Mantle Border Region. **VA: Robbie Daymond**

Reika Murasaki \- A reformed outlaw believed to have been a survivor of a fallen border settlement located along the outer reaches of Vale before being taken in by one William Carson and his band. She attended Beacon Academy alongside fellow reformed outlaw and partner Benjamin Carson, where they were assigned to Team AMBR under Joel Ambrose. She vanished during the events of the Battle of Beacon after encountering Project APEX. - Semblance: Auratic Radar. Current Status - MIA (Presumed KIA). **VA: Cassandra Lee Morris**

* * *

 **-Independent/Unaffiliated-**

Fortuna Marigold \- Infamous Mistrali Dust Mage of the "Infusion" style (See Attached Files), bounty hunter, vigilante, and Huntress known to be operating throughout the Kingdoms of Remnant and their satellite regions. She disappeared four years ago after a fire destroyed her family home, killing her husband and son - both Faunus - despite the crime being perpetrated by White Fang extremists (See Attached Files). She joined the Red Hand as one of their first 'Trapper' agents, and assisted in the training of one Joel Ambrose. Was last seen repelling the Creatures of Grimm within Amity Colosseum during the Battle of Beacon. Current Status - At Large for Crimes against the Kingdoms. **VA: Cree Summer**

Elizabeth Briar \- Dust Mage, and a former Red Hand 2nd Generation Trapper Agent. She was the former partner and affiliate of Joel Ambrose during his time in the Red Hand. She encountered AMBR and Ambrose while the students were operating alongside the Atlesian Military in protecting (CLASSIFIED). She was last seen escaping Atlesian custody in Vale during the Battle of Beacon. She potentially made contact with Ambrose in a local night club, but sources have yet to confirm this. - Semblance: Auratic Pathokinetic Manipulation. Current Status - At Large for Crimes against the Kingdoms. **VA: Brina Palencia**

"Fidelis" \- A former White Fang Enforcer infamously known as 'the Dead Wind.' He is an oddity, but also a highly dangerous individual. He was an associate of the late Roman Torchwick via his role in the White Fang. He was last seen aiding in Professor Jacob Ambrose's escape to safety during the Battle of Beacon alongside Neopolitan, before disappearing shortly after. - Semblance: Aerokinetic Manipulation. Current Status - At Large for Crimes against the Kingdoms. **VA: Patrick Seitz**

* * *

 **-The Badlands-**

The Badlands \- A region located in the wastes between Vacuo and Vale, centered around trade routes utilized by both Kingdoms to transport supplies. Characterized by the rugged nature of both the land and its people, it is often home to bandits, raiders, and a host of other criminal elements, a state their 'Law-Keepers' are working hard to change. The ones not swiping a bit of Lien and Dust off the top for themselves, that is. Their leadership elements are currently working alongside Atlas to improve conditions for their people, to the mixed reactions from the populace themselves.

William Carson \- Husband of Abigail Carson, and father of Specialist Tactician Benjamin Carson. He is a former outlaw and the leader of 'Bill's Bastards,' a band of thieves responsible for terrorizing shipping and trade lanes throughout the region. He is called the 'Hangman' on account of surviving an attempted execution. Current Status - Acting as an Indentured Huntsman under the supervision of his wife. **VA: Roger Clark**

Abigail Carson \- Born Abigail Reddington, she is the wife of William Carson, and the estranged mother of Specialist Tactician Benjamin Carson. She is a former Law-Keeper operating within the Badlands Region of Sanus, her tenure earning her the feared moniker of 'Abby the Red.' Current Status - Acting as Foreign Security Ambassador and go-between between her home region and the Kingdom of Atlas. **VA: Jennifer Hale**

* * *

 **-Mistral-**

Carmen Bordeaux \- A famed, if reclusive artist living on the outskirts of the Mistral coastal settlement of Mural. She is the maternal aunt of Maxine Argus, and the mother of daughter Sonia Bordeaux, both missing. Current Status - Suffering from failing health, and currently hospitalized within Mistral proper. **VA: Amanda Winn-Lee**

* * *

 **-Atlas-**

Jacob Ambrose \- A scientist formerly assigned to the Schnee Dust Company's Research & Development Division, who is heavily regarded for his advances in artificial intelligence, robotics, and Dust application. He was born within Rowan's Frontier to Thomas and Patrice Ambrose, but was heavily wounded during a terrorist attack more than five years prior. He is the younger brother of former Trapper Joel Ambrose. He was present for and wounded during the Battle of Beacon, and was the sole survivor of the airship he was stationed upon. Current Status - Currently assigned to the Atlas Military R&D Division within Atlas. **VA: Kyle McCarley**

Rosso Garrett \- An Atlesian Trooper who served during the Battle of Beacon. He was later promoted to Private First Class before being recruited and assigned to Atlesian Special Task Force #515 as a personal aide to Specialist Tactician Benjamin Carson. He is the son of Ash Garrett, who was captured by Red Hand forces in the Coup of Bastion. Call sign: Echo. **VA: Zach Aguilar**

Cherry Rouge \- She is a Paladin Pilot, and was a former associate of Specialist Benjamin Carson during his time growing up in the Badlands. She was later recruited to Atlas Academy, where she quickly earned acclaim and the personal praise of General James Ironwood for her skill in operating the Paladin Heavy Assault Platform. She is currently serving as a Mech Pilot in Atlesian Special Task Force #515 under the command of Specialist Tactician Benjamin Carson aboard his ship, the _Rock Star._ **VA: Erika Harlacher**

Travis Hemlock \- An Atlesian Trooper who served with distinction during the Battle of Beacon as leader of 'Red Team' under Benjamin Carson, fighting along Vale's border. He and Red Team were later recruited and assigned to Atlesian Special Task Force #515 by Specialist Carson, and placed in charge of his Personal Security Detail. Call sign: Hard-Ass. **VA: Dameon Clarke**

"Spectre" \- A member of the Atlas Special Operatives Unit assigned to General Ironwood's personal security detail. He fought under the direction of Specialist Tactician Benjamin Carson during the Battle of Beacon, and was responsible for asset retrieval during the conflict. Specialist Carson has nicknamed him 'Chuckles.' **VA: Elias Toufexis**

Dorian Altrosa \- A member of the Atlas Special Operatives Unit, currently ranked Specialist Commander. He encountered Team AMBR while on assignment within the Badlands Region of Sanus to protect (CLASSIFIED). He was later wounded during their subsequent encounter with the Red Hand and their Trapper Agents. He has become a vocal proponent of the Red Hand's elimination due to the loss of half of his teammates during said assignment. Current Status - On Assignment (CLASSIFIED) within the Frontier. **VA: Ben Diskin**

* * *

 **-Team JADE-**

Jasper Fullmark \- He is a former 2nd Generation Trapper Agent of the Red Hand who defected in the wake of the Coup of Bastion. He is currently acting as an Indentured Huntsman in Atlesian Special Task Force #515, under the command of Specialist Benjamin Carson and the Atlesian Military. He was assigned to Squad X, designation "Team JADE," where he was placed in the role of Team Leader. _-_ Semblance: Auratic Pulse. Specialty: Forward Assault. Call sign: Brute. **VA: Roger Craig Smith**

Amys Claret \- She is a former 3rd Generation Trapper Agent of the Red Hand who defected in the wake of the Coup of Bastion. She is currently acting as an Indentured Huntsman in Atlesian Special Task Force #515, under the command of Specialist Benjamin Carson and the Atlesian Military. She was assigned to Squad X, designation "Team JADE." _-_ Semblance: Sensory Disruption. Specialty: Assassination and Reconnaissance. Call sign: Shade. **VA: Trina Nishimura**

Dai Jin \- A former 3rd Generation Trapper Agent of the Red Hand who defected in the wake of the Coup of Bastion. He is currently acting as an Indentured Huntsman in Atlesian Special Task Force #515, under the command of Specialist Benjamin Carson and the Atlesian Military. He was assigned to Squad X, designation "Team JADE." _-_ Semblance: Auratic Structural Mapping. Specialty: Demolitions and Technical Operations. Call sign: Twitch. **VA: Todd Haberkorn**

Etho Corvus \- He is an Avian Half-Faunus (Raven), and a former 3rd Generation Trapper Agent of the Red Hand. Unlike the other defectors, he defected to Atlas within weeks after the Fall of Beacon. He crash landed into Atlas Kingdom territory, and was found in critical condition. He has since recovered, and is currently acting as an Indentured Huntsman in Atlesian Special Task Force #515, under the command of Specialist Benjamin Carson and the Atlesian Military. He was assigned to Squad X, designation "Team JADE." _-_ Semblance: Matter Phasing. Specialty: Guerrilla Warfare and Reconnaissance. Call sign: Ghost. **VA: Micah Solusod**

* * *

 **-Rowan's Frontier-**

Rowan's Frontier \- A region located upon the northwesternmost continent of Remnant, famed for its hostile environment and high density of Grimm, which has served to heavily isolate the region as a whole. That is, until the waning years of the Great War by Atlas - then known as Mantle - to somewhat poor results when the latter attempted to settle. It houses a collection of fiercely independent peoples under a shared cultural banner, most of whom are split between the three major settlements: Bastion - the land's cultural capitol, as well as the birthplace and seat of their founder, Queen Rowan - the roving tribes of Safehold, and the coastal trade hub of Mooring. It has recently declared its intention to secede from the accords of the Kingdoms, and, under the influence of the Red Hand and Lucas Violette, unite Mankind under their own banner. By whatever means they deem necessary.

Queen Rowan \- A former slave to the tyrants and war leaders operating within the region at the time, she was responsible for first developing the region known today as 'Rowan's Frontier,' leading an armed revolt that culminated in the capture of Aegis Fortress. Known as a conqueror and a warrior without equal, her name is treated with marked reverence by those of the Frontier, almost as a spiritual figure. Her bloodline is held in much high esteem within the region. According to her people, she and her greatest warriors will return once more to do battle with their greatest enemy, the Dark Goddess, Queen of the Grimm. It is a local legend, and relevant data as to her actual existence, let alone bloodline, is uncertain at best.

Kenneth Ambrose \- He was the former Lord of Bastion, and the Headmaster of Aegis Academy within the Frontier City of Bastion, known as the 'Cahalrym' - the acting cultural leader of the settlement's Huntsmen and Huntresses and beyond - to the peoples of the Frontier. He was a cultural hero and legendary figure for his single-handed actions committed during the 'Night of Falling Silver,' when Grimm managed to pierce the towering walls surrounding the settlement due in large part to internal sabotage. However, the exact details of said actions, and how exactly he repelled such a horde, are unknown to this day. He was the paternal grandfather of Joel and Jacob Ambrose, and a mentor to Lucas Violette. He was falsely presumed deceased within Bastion, and was confirmed to have died later on Patch Island. **VA: Doug Cockle**

Delphine "Soul-Strong" \- She is the representative and Chieftess of the Frontier City of Safehold. She possesses two of the large canine creatures known as 'Hunds,' Ebon and Ivory. She is a paternal relative of Joel and Jacob Ambrose through her cousin, Kenneth Ambrose. **VA: Cissy Jones**

Harper Majorelle \- He is a representative and Merchant Prince of the Frontier City of Mooring and its ruling council, all of whom are suspected of crimes of piracy against the Kingdoms of Remnant. **VA: Derek Stephen Prince**

Tristain Aero \- He is Bastion's Master of the Guard, who is directly responsible for the defenses of the great silver-clad wall surrounding the Frontier City, and its regular military forces. **VA: Keith Szarabajka**

Ash Garrett \- A former Mantle-born Police Chief, he was responsible for arresting Joel Ambrose upon his surrender. He later served as one of the Section Captains for Bastion's defenses on the request of Kenneth Ambrose. He was imprisoned by order of Tristain Aero in the wake of Lucas Violette's ascension to the role of Cahalrym. He is the father of Private First Class Rosso Garrett. **VA: Richard Epcar**

* * *

 **-Red Hand-**

The Red Hand \- Formerly known as the Humanity's Hands Front, it was once a charity and outreach organization originally founded in the advent of Grimm-related disasters, but began to shift in policy around the time of the first White Fang attacks, focusing on assisting survivors of the White Fang's terrorist actions. Over time, however, as dissension and hatred against the White Fang grew, members with Huntsman training began an effort to train victims to defend themselves against further attacks, later assuming full control, and militarizing the once peaceful group, reorganizing into a full militia and mercenary organization completely devoted to the countering of White Fang interests. It currently holds controlling influence within the Frontier City of Bastion, and is inciting rebellion against the Kingdoms of Remnant.

Trappers \- The designation given to members of a small covert branch of the Red Hand's military forces made up almost exclusively of former Huntsmen or Huntsman Academy students that first appeared soon after the organization's reclassification. While all members of the Red Hand receive - or are at least drilled in - the basics of combat, and make effective soldiers in their own right, Trappers are conditioned both physically and mentally to act as one-person armies, the training boasting high washout rates amongst its applicants. Receiving a variety of benefits through applied Aura training, nutritional supplements, and even medical intervention, each Trapper possess enhanced senses and reflexes, especially in terms of hearing.

Lucas Violette \- He is a founding member and the current Commander of the Red Hand terrorist group following the reorganization and disintegration of the Humanity's Hands Front. He later declared himself the Frontier's Cahalrym, the Headmaster of Aegis Academy, and the Lord of Bastion before successfully taking control of the city. He has since instigated hostilities against the Kingdoms of Remnant, organizing the myriad forces of the Frontier in an effort to 'unite Mankind.' He is the former apprentice of the late Kenneth Ambrose, as well as the maternal uncle of Joel and Jacob Ambrose. **VA: Troy Baker**

Virgil Jett \- He was the first of the 2nd Generation Trappers to undergo the ministrations of Doctor Raleigh. He has trained directly under the tutelage of Lucas Violette after being taken in after their first encounter, and was blinded and disfigured at some point. For his role in the Red Hand Coup of Bastion, he was placed in direct command of the Red Hand forces operating within the Kingdoms of Remnant. - Semblance: Auratic Sonar. **VA: Liam O'Brien**

Alastor Raleigh \- The Chief Medical Officer assigned to the Red Hand's Trapper Program. This man is responsible for developing the treatments used to develop young adolescents into the warriors known as the 'Trappers.' **VA: Ian Sinclair**

Estelle Reseda \- A 1st Generation Trapper, and a former Huntress. Said to be extremely volatile, and highly dangerous. **VA: Karen Strassman**

Plaga \- A 1st Generation Trapper, and a former Huntsman known as the 'Plague Doctor.' **VA: Fred Tatasciore**

Robert Lancaster \- A 3rd Generation Trapper of the Red Hand who encountered Team AMBR while on a mission in the Badlands Region of Sanus, and was defeated by them. Current Status - Serving sentence in Atlas Military custody. **VA: Jason Marsden**

Iris Brielle \- She is a 3rd Generation Trapper of the Red Hand, and the former partner of Etho Corvus. She is currently serving under Virgil Jett within the Kingdoms of Remnant. - Semblance: Molecular Acceleration. **VA: Bryn Apprill**

* * *

 **-White Fang-**

Project APEX \- Otherwise known by their well-earned pseudonym the 'Blood Hounds,' which was bestowed upon them for their propensity towards brutal assaults and militant actions. Project APEX began as an initiative by the White Fang to create soldiers that could more efficiently take on the rigors of combat against Humanity's Huntsmen and the Red Hand's Trappers. Using pharmaceutical means, Faunus attached to this unit are capable of astounding feats of strength, endurance, and aggression, at the cost of heightened bouts of emotional instability and rampant addiction.

Conan Argus \- A Canine-type Faunus (Dog) who is the Commanding Officer of Project APEX. He is the father of Maxine Argus of Team AMBR, and was last seen aiding the White Fang's assault on Beacon Academy with his 'Blood Hounds.' **VA: D.C. Douglas**

Erika Falkner \- An Avian-Type Faunus (Falcon), and the Chief Medical Officer of Project APEX. Co-developer of the 'Butcher's Brew,' the drug that allows those of Project APEX to function with such effectiveness. **VA: Amanda C. Miller**

Charlotte Cerise \- An Insect-Type Faunus (Arachnid), and a high-ranking soldier of Project APEX. She is the Pack Leader of the Blood Hound's First Claw (Squad), and Second-in-Command under Conan Argus. **VA: Michelle Ruff**

Boris Kingsley \- A Cancridae-Type Faunus (King Crab), and a high-ranking soldier of Project APEX. He is a personal aide to Conan Argus. **VA: Steve Blum**

Luke Iblis - A Bovidae-Type Faunus (Goat), and a high-ranking soldier of Project APEX. **VA: Crispin Freeman**

* * *

 **-The Black Queen's Pawns-**

Sonia Bordeaux \- The daughter of famed artist Carmen Bordeaux, and the maternal cousin of Maxine Argus. She had been rendered comatose at the hands of her cousin after an accidental emotional outburst involving the use of her Semblance leveled roughly half the building they were inhabiting (See Attached Files). She later regained consciousness, and was present for much of AMBR's performance during the Vytal Festival. She then vanished during the events of the Battle of Beacon after encountering members of Project APEX and her estranged uncle, Conan Argus. **VA: Christine Marie Cabanos**

Alexander Capaneus \- A former 2nd Generation Trapper of the Red Hand who was captured by Atlas forces after a failed assassination attempt due in part to the combined efforts of Joel Ambrose - the intended target - and Yang Xiao Long. He later escaped alongside Roman Torchwick during the events of the Battle of Beacon, vanishing after the ship bearing both criminals crash landed along the Vale coastline. **VA: Matthew Mercer**

Natalie Corbell \- A former Information & Data Analyst of the Red Hand who was pardoned of her past affiliations as a condition of the surrender of Joel Ambrose. She was reported to have been working closely with underground information broker Hei Xiong, also known as 'Junior.' She is suspected of involvement with the Kingdom-wide viral attack that afflicted Atlas Military technology and the CCT Network, leading to the fall of the Kingdom's defenses, and the direct deaths accrued during the Fall of Beacon. She vanished during the events of the battle after being violently abducted by Edward Briar. **VA: Mae Whitman**

Edward Briar \- A former 3rd Generation Trapper of the Red Hand, marked out as one of their most lethal. At a young age, he lost his father after he was killed by members of the White Fang, and was tortured brutally alongside his sister, Elizabeth Briar, at their hands. He later joined the Red Hand in response to his sister's efforts and successes within the group, and was encouraged by Doctor Raleigh, given the nature of his Semblance, to join the Trapper Initiative. He is reported to be highly dangerous and unstable, earning him the nickname 'Duo' amongst his fellow Trappers. He was last encountered by criminal elements during the Battle of Beacon, where he had a hand in the kidnapping of Natalie Corbell, and the deaths of roughly two dozen heavily-armed individuals before vanishing without a trace. **VA: Johnny Yong Bosch**

* * *

-END

* * *

 _ **A/N: Yep, guess who's back at least in this story, and hopefully in some way back in Canon itself! Seemed like a good starting point, especially seeing as this is a more 'data' driven chapter meant more as a refresher. We've had a lot of character and places in the 90+ chapters and for some of us (Me included) its been awhile.**_

 ** _Here's hoping I'll be able to get back on a semi-regular schedule with these updates and am working hard to stay on top of these. I'm working hard IRL so please be kind on that front. I'd appreciate it._**

 ** _On that note, as always feel free to leave comments, questions, and ideas. They only make the story better and help me improve. Until next time all. - Mojo1586_**

* * *

 _ **(Next Chapter: Facing the future can be difficult, especially when one is stuck in the past.)**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Edited as of (9/16/19)**

 **PB: Da-Awesom-One**

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY or its characters, they belong to Monty Oum of Rooster Teeth Productions. Those characters you see not from the show, like Team AMBR themselves, are my own OCs created for the purpose of the story.)**_

 **"…" – Spoken**

 **' _Italics'_ \- Thought**

 _ **A/N: Starting off third person here, thought I'd give it another shot. Aside from that, welcome to the official first chapter. Enjoy!**_

* * *

FROM WHERE WE LEFT OFF

* * *

 **(Mantle Outskirts)**

 _'...What do I do?'_

That was the question playing on repeat across Turk Jingwei's mind as screaming sirens echoed throughout the cramped command center, alert beacons flashing into life, throwing the room into a contrast of blood-colored hues that only served to highlight the snarling beast's head and claw marks, the infamous symbol of the White Fang.

A symbol to fear and despise for many, but for those that believed as he and his brothers and sisters-in-arms did, it was something far more. A source of hope for the downtrodden of Remnant. A rallying cry to those looking to fight back against the oppression of Humankind.

 _'For freedom, equality, and the future of Faunus everywhere...'_

Thoughts of that oath taken eased his shallow breathing somewhat in the struggle to regain control of frayed emotions lost in the heat of the moment, or at the very least it helped. The Faunus ran a shaking hand tenderly over the cobalt avian plumage that sprouted along the sides of his head, before once more donning the full Grimm-style mask indicative of his rank. That symbol of the Fang's defiance, that acceptance of the role that was forced upon his kind by the humans, would serve to hide his unease from the others; a mercy.

He had to be strong; fearless. For his people.

To think, all of this chaos and rampant activity was in pitched response to the feed playing across the view screens displaying the snow-laden fields and forests surrounding the hidden staging area, as well as the clear threat now just skirting over the dull morning glow along horizon, the outline of what was clearly an airship hovering in the distance.

Indistinct amidst the haze of howling winds and ever-present blizzards of Mantle, but technology rarely lied, as did experience. And his experience was now telling him that the Atlesian Military had finally come calling.

 _'What can I do?...'_

They were under attack, and it was galling to even consider. This outpost was remote; it should have been safe. It should have been... No. The reasons behind this catastrophe were irrelevant. The enemy was here now, right in front of them. And they were fools to come knocking at his door.

" _Take heart, all of you!_ " Turk's voice rang clearly through the enclosed space, cutting through the klaxons with an ease born of years of shouting orders, silencing the murmuring of his subordinates in an instant as all turned to regard him. "It's just one ship, right!? A small one at that!"

He smiled at the nods of agreement playing across his people's faces, seeing the hope shining through the eye slits of their masks. It was almost infectious. More than that, even. He acknowledged the guards spaced about the room, those who would be called to serve momentarily.

"This bunker is a holdover of the Great War, built to withstand assaults by man and Grimm alike with ease. A ship half again that size couldn't hope to pierce it! Not before our own defenses cut it to ribbons!" More calls of assent, the atmosphere in the room shifting for the better. "We are the White Fang! The hope to Faunus everywhere! We have stood tall against more than this, and come through victorious! Today shall be _no different!_ "

He raised a defiant fist, the same raised hundreds of times before by hundreds of other believers in the vision they all fought for. A world free of human tyranny. A world where Faunus were respected, even if they had to fight tooth, claw, and talon for it. Let Atlas come. Let them see the glory of the White Fan...!

" _Sir, incoming hail!_ " a seated soldier, a young woman with curled horns protruding from above her domino mask, cried out suddenly, face glued to her console. "From the enemy, sir!"

Ah, he had been wondering when they would try this. A demand to surrender, no doubt. An empty promise that none would be harmed were he and his men to lay down their arms and resign themselves quietly. A common recourse for the Kingdom of the North: make a showy display of force, and hope it inspires terror before "mercifully" offering an alternative. Meager excuses that likely made the officers of Atlas feel as if they were somehow above them, morally if in little else.

"Put it on the screen! No reason we can't show some civility to our uninvited guests, now is there?"

It wasn't much of a joke, but it got a few scattered laughs out of them. That's what mattered. Most were too busy watching the main display to notice, eager to see the face of the Atlas puppet sent to deal with them.

Would it be a veteran commander; a grizzled soldier foolhardy or bigoted enough to believe we would bend to one ship, and a runt at that? Perhaps it would be one of General Ironwood's vaunted Specialists, those Huntsmen and Huntresses who'd sold out when they should have remained neutral And they called the White Fang 'criminals.'

Turk was careful to keep his posture steady while the techs worked to build the connection, a trick he'd learned over the years, placing his hands behind his back and puffing out his chest, shoulders set. Whoever they had sent, they would see a man willing to fight to the end for his beliefs. A man who would stand tall no matter the odds, no matter the...

 _'...By the gods, what is...!?'_

His wasn't the only one with an expression of outright shock and surprise, though his was by far the most put off at the sight of the choppy image playing across the holographic screen, namely the subject of it. A young man - outrageously so - with deeply tanned skin and straw blonde hair slicked back close to his scalp save for a few rebellious spikes towards the front, brilliantly green eyes widening in what could almost be resigned acceptance at the response he received.

"A _child!?_ " Turk spat, glancing around at his officers as if they would have any kind of explanation for exactly what he was looking at. "They send a _child_ to deal with us!? What kind of joke is this!?"

The young man, no... the _boy_ sported the familiar immaculately pressed dress uniform of an Atlas officer, the grey patch at his breast and at his collar marking him out even further as a Specialist.

But how?... _How!?_

 _"...Huh. Y'all would think I'd be used to this sorta reaction after... Uh, how many's this make? Sixth time now?"_

The ridiculous officer turned at the sound of a voice emanating from outside the screen's view on his end, nodding for a moment, and grinning to himself as if this were all some big joke, and he knew it as well as they did, a small scar tugging at his lip.

 _"Seventh! Thanks, Echo... I guess."_ He coughed, clearing his throat, and Turk stiffened at the sight of a grey plated prosthetic acting in place of his hand, the stiff yet precise movement of the act suggesting the whole arm was similarly mechanical. _"As I was sayin', you'd think I'd be used to it by now, but it still kinda nags atcha, just that little bit, y'know?"_ He spoke to the room at large, sighing at the host of masked silent stares he earned back in response.

"E-enough with this!" Turk bristled, the feathery crests a top his head rustling despite his best efforts to maintain composure. "You were the ones hailing us! The least your commanding officer could do is have the stomach to face his enemies himself! Bring him forward!"

 _"Ah... Well, sorry to say this, pal - really am - but the thing is, you're sorta lookin' at him."_ The boy officer shrugged. Actually _shrugged_ , like this was something he dealt with often. It should have been easy to see it as childish, but somehow it only seemed to make him appear even more unaffected. It was infuriating. _"Was kinda bankin' on my reputation precedin' me and all."_ He scratched at his cheek with a metallic finger. _"Guess not."_

That indelicate accent stood out as distinctly foreign from the usual cool clipped mannerisms of your average Atlesian, most of which were as frigid as the lands they lived in, and as mechanical as their robotic servants.

A blonde young man, lacking an arm, and bearing a metal replacement in its stead, acting as a Specialist under the direct command of General Ironwood.

Turk knew who this was. He'd heard the outlandish tales just like everyone else.

"I see now... You're Benjamin Carson, that Atlesian Specialist. One of the vaunted General Ironwood's youngest, if I'm not mistaken."

 _" **Ah-ha!** So ya **do** know me!" _The aforementioned former bandit clapped his hands together, seeming almost relieved by the news. _"Good! That makes things easier. Reckon proper introductions might just be a teensy bit awkward at this point."_

"Oh, you'd be quite surprised by what the White Fang hears, Human," Turk replied dryly, leaning forward and letting his long-nailed fingers dig furrows into the console before him, careful to keep the reaction subdued from the Specialist, mind racing frantically. "Hero of Vale's borders during the great Grimm incursion of the Vytal Festival, and the defender of her people who stole victory from the jaws of defeat. The so-called ' _Bandit of Beacon._ ' Yes, yes, we've heard quite a lot about you and this crew of yours these last few months."

Namely his exploits uncovering and subsequent destruction of several White Fang outposts and listening stations along the length of the continent. None quite so large and remote as the one Turk himself commanded, but had nevertheless operated in the shadows for months - in some cases even years - without too much Kingdom scrutiny. Well-placed to aid in the effort to destabilize and weaken Remnant's greatest military power, and the White Fang's greatest enemy in the war for equality.

And then, just as things had started moving forward following the Fall of Beacon and the curious unrest in the Frontier, some brat hailing from half a world away simply stumbles into the picture. Not just that, but he worked quickly to cripple several critical points in the White Fang's network, points once thought to be beyond Humanity's reach. In fact, so many had fallen that most others in his position had been stunned into believing this curious Specialist to be nothing but pure lunacy; some myth to excuse a particularly inspired string of attacks on the part of a group of Specialists, or more of the tyrant general's propaganda.

None could properly agree on details, but all had supplied a name for this reformed bandit turned Huntsman turned Specialist: Benjamin Carson.

 _'But simply looking at him...'_

The White Fang Commander wasn't impressed. Not one bit.

"A Kingdom puppet who's only redeeming qualities have been a penchant for semi-clever ploys and dumb luck. A foolish cad with no sense of duty or honor. A failure of a Huntsman licking at Ironwood's boots, and grabbing for what scraps he deigns to...!"

 _"Yeah, yeah, I'm a suck-up, whatever. But ya **have** heard of me." _Turk choked back a snarl at the interruption and, what's more, the arrogant indifference in Carson's tone. _"That's good; real good, see. Makes things that much more easier. Don'tcha think so, **Turk Jingwei,** head of White Fang operations in this region of Mantle?" _Another wince, carefully hidden behind the mask. However, why did he think the Specialist could tell regardless, if the smile tugging at his lips were any indication? _"We hear a lotta things, too. Gotta say, big fan of your work. That raid ya pulled off two months ago along the coastline? **Brilliant** stuff! Whole shipment of Dust stolen, and the relief force sent runnin' on some wild goose chase while your people made off like kings. Couldn't have run it better myself."_ It sounded like genuine praise, from a Human, of all things, but the condescension in that last statement wasn't lost on the Commander.

"Your point, Carson?" he said with far more confidence than he felt, but standing tall for his people regardless. His courage was theirs, his choices now... "We don't have all day. The war for freedom stops for no one."

 _"My **point...** " _The Specialist raised a metallic finger, scratching at his face idly, _"My point is that maneuvers like that tell me you're a smart man, or that you at least tend to listen to the smart folks workin' for ya. Smart enough to know how this here picture's gonna play out."_

And there it was. Let the threats begin.

"Oh? And how _will_ it play out?" The Faunus raised a hand and motioned to the room at large, standing tall and defiant. "If our sensors are correct, which they are, you have one meager ship - a tiny thing, at that - to host such overconfidence! One ship against a refuge designed to weather a force many times that number, Grimm or man, and home to some of the best and most skilled the White Fang has to offer!" It sounded suitably impressive, and it was, that confidence and the impression of disquiet hesitation flickering in the other leader's eyes driving him forward. "Our defenses alone will keep you at bay, and force you back to your masters in disgrace!"

Cheers met the declaration, cheers to lift the spirits despite the air of mortality pervading it.

 _"...But **why,** though?" _The question was sincere, no trace of sarcasm or mockery. _"Commander, we can stop this right now. I honestly just have a few questions I wanna ask. Questions that need answerin', and ones that you might be able to help me with. If ya do, I can promise fair treatment for your people."_ 'Fair treatment,' he says. More empty promises. More lies... _"C'mon, man, think about this. Like, seriously, **please. Think about this.** Nobody needs to shed any blood today. Nobody needs to die. All I want is some information on somethin' called ' **Project APEX** ,' and I can...!"_

He paused, listening with a baffled allowance of the laughter rippling from his counterpart's throat. The Faunus was laughing, boisterously so, even his own people seeming confused, while others joined along awkwardly.

 _"...Really? Y'done?"_

"The _Blood Hounds!?_ " Jingwei managed to gasp out between chuckles, supporting himself against the console. "You reveal yourselves, threaten an attack against me and mine, come begging - _begging_ \- that I appease your terms of surrender, and then go about asking me about those maniacs!? What do you think this is!?"

 _"Your **last chance** to come quietly, and spare us both the headache that'll come if we drag this out,"_ Carson pressed on, eyes imploring him, begging once more, even if it didn't seem so. It was pitiful - a display unworthy of a proper leader - to beg at the foot of his foe. Greater proof of Faunus supremacy if Jingwei had ever seen it. _"Think of your people."_

"I _am_ thinking of them!" Turk intoned, clenching his hand into a tight fist, clapping it against his chest piece. "It's why I defend them from the likes of you and those you serve! I've heard of your exploits, Carson. Lies, no doubt, or the deeds of better men stolen by some coward who can't bear the thought of an equal fight!"

 _"You... You can't actually be serious."_

"Of course I am!" he declared proudly, removing his mask to stare at the cowardly wavering boy with his own two eyes, brimming with zeal. "We will fight you to the last for our cause! Even if you should lay siege, you and yours will have to tear us from this burrow one hero at a time! We will _not_ submit! _Not again!_ "

 _"You'll lose. You can't escape this; none of you. Even if we just sit back, more are comin' as we speak. You'd still fight us?"_

"Let them come! We will _not_ submit! WE WILL _NOT_ SUBMIT!" The chant took up around the length of the command center, every Faunus screaming it proudly, masked faces grinning broadly.

Carson just stood there, brow furrowed and his mouth pursed as if tasting something particularly sour. He was muttering something to himself, and it wasn't until others noticed and the chanting ceased that the words began to make themselves heard

 _"...I **tried...** Damn it, I godsdamn **tried.** There's just no reasonin' with you people... Should've learned after Vale..." _the Specialist sighed, massaging his skull between those mechanical digits before straightening up to his full height, eyes set in a way Turk hadn't expected to see, and not on one so young.

A potent mix of anger, exasperation, regret, stress, all of it showing through as the young man in that instant bared the weight of some unseen decision, weighing it before speaking loudly and clearly, voice clipped in a manner much more familiar than the accented tone he had carried on before.

 _"This is Specialist Tactician Benjamin Carson of the Special Operatives Unit of the Atlas Kingdom Grand Military, under the command of General James Ironwood! JADE, it's time to show some luster! Operation's a go! I repeat, operation's a **go!** "_

" _Ha!_ What is this, some foolish show of force!?" Turk jeered, shaking his head with the swagger of a man sure of himself, his doubts extinguished by this exchange. "Empty boasts and twisted lies, all lacking in resolve! That's all you are, Carson! 'Luster,' some secret 'operation.' Why... even your commands are meaningless!"

 **"That's 'cause he's not talking to you, Feather-Head."**

A voice, boosted and distorted into a low growl directly behind the White Fang Commander, caused him to whirl about, clutching for the sidearm at his waist as something... no, _someone,_ stepped from the shadows, past the still-twitching bodies of the two guards that had stood flanking the commander's cupola.

A tall, broad-shouldered juggernaut of a man sealed within the white-gray body armor of Atlesian style, pale green markings adorning the gears in various places such as the shoulders, cuffs, and the full-faced helmet he sported, as opposed to the open-mouthed variants he'd seen a hundred times before on other soldiers.

Tapping against his shoulder plate, held loosely in hand, was a hefty maul as long as Jingwei was tall, and even heavier by the looks of it. A long, bladed guard glinted along the length of the corded handle in the tinged light of the terminals, the head ridged with exhaust ports and what appeared to be a miniature engine.

A clear break in the Atlas standard, and all the more terrifying for it. His appearance wasn't the only thing that set this giant apart from his fellows, no. There was his demeanor. A cool, prideful arrogance showed through every movement, unhampered in the slightest by what should have been a hefty load under the weight of his weapon. A predator, moving with strange loping strides Turk could have sworn he'd see before. A predator seeking its prey with an almost familiar...

 _'No...'_ He knew what this creature was, truly, beneath the Atlas paint job. It should not have been possible, it made little sense, but here one was. One of _them._

Seeing the danger for what it was, Turk raised his pistol, only to have it knocked from his grasp with an almost dismissive backhand, one that he was quite sure to have shattered every bone in his hand, and sent searing pain shooting up the limb as his shoulder nearly popped. Pain not helped in the least, the Trapper, for that was what this was, grabbed him and used the momentum of the blow to spin him around and wrap an arm around his windpipe, allowing the Avian Faunus a perfect view of his other guards similarly subdued. One's body collapsed to the concrete flooring, her head following a moment later, neck smoking with thin wisps of cauterized flesh, the other with a thin blade sliding with a whispering hiss from his chest.

Even as he watched, mouth working in silent horror and its floundering attempts to draw breath, their killers appeared. Each hunched over their victims, both bedecked in the same armor as the one that held him, but wildly different in stature.

The first materialized seemingly out of thin air, a slender female, almost childlike in her appearance, and may well have been with the helmet concealing her features, a brass and crimson-colored length of cloth wrapped around her arms and over her shoulder, ends still smoking.

Her counterpart, a slim man with clawed gauntlets that clutched the hilt of his sword loosely in one hand, was also visible now. At least, his upper torso was. The rest seemed to actually be hanging from somewhere within the wall itself, the rest of him following shortly afterwards as he stepped from the wall and into the room proper, Aura still radiating outwards across his body like a shroud.

" _Listen up, you lot!"_ Benjamin called with an authoritative crack in his voice that drew the intruder's attention in an instant, the grip on his throat slacking just enough to gasp in a few quick breaths, watering eyes fixed on those cold emerald orbs. _"Clear the place, but remember the objective. Secure me data, secure me officers, secure me information, **period.** No lethal force unless absolutely necessary!" _Turk saw the hesitation there, hidden from Carson's own people by the angle of the camera, but the White Fang leader saw it clear as day. And then it was gone, replaced once more by hard-edged steel. _"Though I s'pose_ _I'll leave the distinction of what exactly that qualifies as up to you."_ He broke off, making to end the broadcast before hesitating, motioning with what was clearly a pointed finger at Jingwei himself. _"And I want **him.** Talkin' and walkin', too, if ya'd please. Got it?"_

 **"Orders understood, Carson. Loud and clear."** Turk struggled, dark smudges appearing at the corners of his vision as consciousness fled from him, the giant speaking softly in his ear, and the words were enough to make the blood run as cold as Atlas itself. **"...Loud and oh-so clear. Now then,** ** _LET'S HAVE SOME FUN!_** **"**

* * *

 _ **-Benjamin Carson-**_

"Um... Sir?" I could hear the worry playing in my aide's voice as I terminated the connection, only to slam a metal fist hard into the console, turning the attention of all aboard the bridge on me. Garrett's usual eagerness was dampened after that little exchange, his body language screaming a dozen different tells like some open book: panic, worry, sympathy. "Are you... Are you alright?"

"I..." Take a moment, Ben. Just breathe... "I'm fine. Just fine. Thanks, Echo." Now to tack on an apologetic smile. Not too big, though. Don't want to seem crazy. Nice and neutral, like I didn't just order the violent harm of a base full of Faunus, regardless of their "innocence." "And it's ' _Boss,_ ' Private, not 'sir.'"

"Oh, uh... O-of course, si... _Boss._ "

"Now then, Ensign Sweets, bring us in closer to the mountain itself, but keep an eye out for anythin' suspicious. Reckon this'll be about done and dealt with by the time we get down there, but no harm in bein' a bit cautious." I made a show of breathing in and taking a limping step backwards to lean the back of my legs against the captain's chair and stroke the terminal, running my prosthetic fingers over the fresh dent I'd made in the once smooth metal. "The Fangers can be wily ones, especially backed into a corner like this."

"Aye, Specialist Carson. Moving closer now." The mousy young woman manning the guidance controls snapped back a tense salute before quickly setting a course that carried the airship forward smoothly, relaying updates to her fellows as they each resumed the standard and efficient chatter one might expect to be present on any airship. And I just observed, taking in those few moments of calm amidst fevered activity.

The subtle shift and hum of the engines vibrated through the bridge, and caused my right leg to itch at the knee beneath the brace I wore concealed beneath my pant leg, remnants of the Fall of Beacon months before still making itself felt.

 _'...Funny, no one listened to me then, either...'_ I drummed my fingers across the metal of the support railing set up nearby for my benefit in a rapid tempo. It was a jaunty tune, completely at odds with this madness.

Something, _anything_ to keep me focused.

"Defenses detected, but inactive, sir! The way seems to be...!" She flinched, along with everyone else bustling about on the bridge, as an explosion wracked the hillside below in an eruption of smoke and half melted slush. Sirens sprang to life, but I quieted them with a raised hand and a nod at the young woman, her frame shaking. "D-detonation detected! Source unclear, but it appears to have originated...!"

"I know where it came from. Continue on course for another cycle," I heaved a heavy sigh, gripping a nearby handrail to steady myself as he ship lurched again, my fingers drumming all the while. "Raise altitude, and send a warning to our Troopers on the ground, just in case."

Seems the Trappers had gotten started with their usual gusto...

"Look, ya know ya did whatcha could, don'tcha, Ben?" a slightly pale-faced Cherry Rouge spoke up just a bit too swiftly from behind me as I moved from the communications console and its stony-faced operator with a disappointed sigh, reacting just a hair too quickly for me to believe she believed a word I was saying, tucking a long curly lock of bright crimson hair behind her ear in that way she always did when she was nervous before stopping herself and reaching out to grip my shoulder instead. All the while the bridge crew looked on nervously, pretending not to, of course.

As if I could blame her for being on edge. Or any of them, really.

The ominous sight of a masked and armored visage looming over the White Fang's shoulder, the glee in the response the former Trapper had given me, and what it meant for the inhabitants of that base, all of it now firmly seared into the minds of those aboard the bridge. They made good show at staying on task, however. Good old Atlesian conditioning, much as I hated to admit it.

"You gave 'em a chance to surrender - to end this thing peacefully - and they refused ya. What happens next..."

"Didn't have to happen," I finished for her, appreciating the gesture of comfort, but shrugging it off all the same, unable to find it in me to turn around and face her. Instead, I kept my eyes firmly fixed outside the _Rock Star's_ port side window upon the now-smoking hilltop, where I knew the hidden bunker where the Fang had taken residence to be, my imagination already doing the rest of the work for me as to what was happening within. "But it did. It was my call to send JADE in. They were my orders, and I stand by 'em."

Nice words for a Commander. Almost said with some genuine confidence there, or a convincing enough substitute for the crew.

 _'I can't crack. Not right now.'_ I dipped a mechanical hand towards the flask at my belt, yearning for the bitter, amber-colored liquid within, but I held myself back... _barely._ Only the awareness of Cherry and Garrett's worried gaze and some lingering sense of responsibility kept me from completing the familiar cycle once more. _'Not now...'_

This assignment had come down from General Ironwood personally almost as soon as the rumors started floating around of White Fang outposts located so close to Mantle; to Atlas itself. With the memory of what had happened only months before in Vale still fresh for the most part in the minds of Atlas's leadership, well... such a thing just couldn't be allowed to stand without consequence. The orders had been clear: investigate the matter personally, discover whichever holes the Faunus had decided to crawl down and hide in, and clear them out. Every last one of them.

He'd been surprisingly vague just on how he expected me to do it. A warning sign in and of itself.

Sending in the Trappers, no... _JADE,_ I reminded myself sternly, to deal with the issue had been the smart call. With the way some of these older facilities were designed - many predating Atlas itself, and meant to stand up to Grimm attacks and worse - the only other alternatives would have been either a full-on siege - which Trooper Hemlock's Red Team would have taken on gladly, despite the fact that losses were almost all but guaranteed - or simply leveling the place with my airship's ordinance, which was equally unacceptable for altogether different reasons. And not quite the reasons one might expect from a former Huntsman-in-training.

I needed answers, which could only come from a live White Fang operative high up on the food chain, and one preferably not trapped underground at best, and completely buried at worst. Jasper, or 'Brute,' as I'd come to start calling him, was the obvious choice.

It was quite literally what he and the others had been made for, and they did their work well... Just not _too_ well, I hoped.

That feather-headed Faunus had forced this, chosen for his people. That bastard. That callous, idiotic, overly-prideful...

* * *

" _...heartless m-monster! Disgusting, despicable...!_ "

The now-blindfolded White Fang Commander Jingwei - or _former_ Commander, I suppose I should say now - spat and spluttered venomously as soon as the gag was removed and the pair of Red Team soldiers flanking him shoved him roughly down to his knees in the snow before me next to a pair of his similarly bound fellows, the bluish feathers strewn throughout his hair stained crimson, and his pale sweating face a mottled mess of bruising and half-healed cuts as he shivered in the bitter cold.

Team JADE had done their job. Shame they hadn't exactly been gentle, these three among the most stable for my needs, and even then they looked ready to drop at the slightest breeze.

 _'What a rude fella. And I went and limped all the way down here to see him, too...'_ I honestly expected him to be bigger, though I suppose he might well have thought the same of me.

"I _did_ give y'all a chance, 'member? I didn't want it to hafta come to this either," I groaned, massaging my aching temples. "Now, I'd like to ask again, politely. The Blood Hounds, Project APEX. Where are they located? How do they...?"

" _...All of you! Nothing more than murderous Human garbage!_ " The Avian Faunus was practically frothing at the mouth by this point, head twitching this way and that in response to even the slightest sounds, struggling fruitlessly against the men and ties that held him bound. "Little better than the Grimm! _Worse,_ even! Let me...!" His men on either side echoed their leader fearlessly in turn, spewing curses and slurs with utter abandon at their captors, especially a younger-looking soldier with long dark stripes along his bare arms and a cruel sneer.

I allowed the defiance to continue a few moments longer, so as to get a read of exactly what I was working with here, listening halfheartedly while rolling my shoulders, and admiring the winter scenery of the sparse woodlands, until calmly removing the snub pistol at my side, and loosing a pair of rounds into the air, the dual crack of the shots silencing the lot of them as effectively as if I'd gagged them again myself.

"'...Little better than the Grimm,' eh? Really, now?" I said slowly and clearly while lowering the smoking barrel, sure to stress every syllable to make myself heard over the frost-chilled winds, after a few more seconds of letting them sweat, of course.

'Let the imagination run its course.' That had been the first of the lessons JADE's latest addition, one Etho Corvus, had taught me about fear. The first of many such tips and tricks, apparently. Folks have a tendency to exaggerate things on principle, so why try hard when you can let them do all the work for you?

My fellow officer quickly perked his head up and growled at my words, obviously finally recognizing the voice from our earlier conversation, which was good. It meant he understood just where his bluster and grandstanding before had landed him, and hopefully the severity of his situation. I could use that...

"Ya hafta know that's pretty funny comin' from your lot, right?... 'Specially after the little stunt y'all pulled in Vale."

I cocked my head to the side lazily, glancing around at my men, most nodding their heads and listening along or otherwise directing glares at the prisoners. Most of this group had served alongside me at the Kingdom's border during the Battle of Beacon months ago, out on the front lines when the horde had attacked. Most had lost friends as a result, me included.

"Actually, y'know what?... No. No, it's really not. We lost good people that day. _A lot of 'em._ Nothin' ' _funny_ ' 'bout that, friend." My knee ached sympathetically, the cold biting deeper all of a sudden, but at least it was better than the heat.

"Vale?... You little _upstart!_ Couldn't you tell Vale was nothing more than a wake-up call!? A necessary sacrifice to show that we would no longer be something to just sweep under the rug!" A pained smile built across his bruised features, one that burned with the same inner conviction shared seemingly by all his kind. Not Faunus... _Fanatics._ "Your military, your governments, your schools, all of it brought low! For that one night, _you_ were the ones being hunted! Your people got to experience what mine have had to endure for generations upon...!?"

A border on fire, a city under siege, friends lost...

I shook my head with a low groan, taking advantage of his little rant to hobble my way forward, struggling through the slush and mud before bringing the pistol up snug beside his ear, and pulling the trigger, putting him on the ground howling as his senses exploded into white noise.

"Oh, shut _up_ with that garbage, will ya!? No one's listenin'! No one who gives a damn, at any rate!" I raised my voice over the cries, uncaring of whether or not he could hear me, leaning back as the Faunus thrashed about, only to jump in place with a barely-restrained curse as a feminine figure sporting sleek, Atlas-grade gear seemed to appear out of nowhere above him, the newcomer's face hidden behind a helm that obscured features I knew to be delicate and youthful, like a doll's. Jingwei noticed the new weight abruptly as well, whimpering on the ground underneath her heel. " _A-ah!_ Miss Claret! So good of you to join us!"

 **"Greetings, Specialist Tactician Benjamin Carson."** She bowed her helmeted head low, that strange cloth of hers trailing from her arms, Dust crystals jingling in the harsh winter flurries from their tips. **"Our mission has been accomplished. No friendly casualties. JADE Leader Jasper Fullmark will be along shortly."**

"Takin' his sweet time, is he?" She nodded, apparently taking the question literally. "Good. He'll wanna see this. Speakin' of which..." I worked myself down into a crouch despite a protesting knee, waving off Echo's hand before plucking the blindfold from his face, avoiding snapping teeth. Not that it would've done him much good. Metal tends to taste bad, after all.

If Commander Turk had been able to look upwards properly, all he would have seen was me, and the skull face carved into front of my subordinate's helm leering down at him dispassionately. The face of one who had doubtless "dealt" with many of his comrades minutes before, and a host of others long before that. A real charmer, this one. Not too bad looking under the helmet, though it was sort of diminished by the cold emotionless facade she put on, her accented words flat and lifeless.

 _'Wouldn't kill her to smile once in while, that's for sure. Or at least take the damn helmet off.'_ Yeah, definitely something off with this one.

Of course, the fact she was, or at least had been, a Trapper - one of those Faunus-killing agents of the Red Hand who could snap my bones like putty faster than I could say 'Oops' - also didn't help. Just being near her was disconcerting enough. Being near any of JADE's membership, really. What Ironwood could have been thinking when he set up this little experiment, I'd never...

" _Murderers!_ " Ah, great, this again. "All of you! Is this what the supposedly great Kingdom of Atlas has fallen to!?" Jingwei looked around, doing his best to meet my Troopers in the eye, even from his rather limited vantage point, cowing a few of them with his sheer disgust. "Though I guess I shouldn't be surprised! Not when you've allowed the Red Hand to thrive for all this time, so long as they did your dirty work for you! But to actually depend on creatures like the Trappers to do what you're too afraid to...! _Oof!_ " The bird man yelped sharply in pain, driven face first into the snow with Amys Claret's boot pressed at the back of his skull.

 **"This animal is... _annoying._ " **She cocked her head at my attempts to straighten back to my feet, finally offering a hesitant hand towards me. **"Shall I eliminate it?"**

Yeah... Think I'm just gonna ignore her proffered hand, and the glowing death blanket she carried with her. I was about balanced anyway, just gritting my teeth and bearing it like usual.

" _Nah, don't do that!_ "

Another newcomer stepped from the treeline, Red Team parting quickly to respond to the new threat, only to lower their rifles at the sight of Jasper Fullmark striding towards our little staging area, brazen as he pleased, with his helmet under one arm and his impressive maul settled in the other. Flanking his sides, Dai Jin and Corvus himself both marched along, all of whom looking remarkably unruffled by what, by all accounts, had been a rather nasty scrap within the bunker.

Jingwei snarled at his approach, practically foaming at the mouth in his attempts to worm his way free and charge the Brute, attempts said brute merely laughed off condescendingly. "Feather-Head here was a _great_ help. Wouldn't believe how many of his mates just up and gave in once they saw we were carting him around with us. Best backpack ever."

"Monsters... _All of you!..._ Murdering, _reprehensible_ little...!"

"You're late," I spoke over the murmuring Commander, cocking my head at the copper maned warrior. "What keptcha?"

I got a raised eyebrow at the use of my 'commanding tone,' but thankfully the former Trapper just sighed and motioned at the Faunus imprisoned at his teammate's feet. "You ever subdue a base full of anima... _Faunus?_ " He adjusted in the face of my glare. "Sorry, old habits die hard. Though if you'd let this lot die harder, then things would've gone a whole lot faster. This is what happens when we have to go gentle, and spare the majority."

But he _had_ spared the majority. That's what mattered.

"As it stands, I left Rouge to work out the pickup for 'em."

"Cherry, huh? Bet she's just lovin' that." Of course, she'd gripe and moan at any job that didn't involve her sitting in the cockpit of her 'baby.'

"Meh, thought we make them nervous enough as it was. Tend to have that effect." Dai shrugged in agreement, Corvus merely nodding along, uninterested. Ah well. Probably for the best. Cherry at least knew how to coordinate large groups. She'd get the survivors cared for.

Now it was back to the business at hand.

"Now, I'll ask nicely _one more time,_ " I began again slowly, careful to sound out every syllable so I was sure my counterpart understood. I even had Amys back off, the smaller girl looking for Jasper's signal before complying. "I have questions. Questions I'd greatly appreciate you answerin'."

"And what!? What if I don't answer, hmm!? What then!?" Jingwei worked himself up to his knees, eyes narrowed sharply into venomous slits. "You have the gall to send Trappers before your forces to spear your attack, but I see right through you, Carson! Your mercy is a weakness, lacking in resolve!" Team JADE stood by impassively, even while other Troopers around them catcalled the Faunus with complaints, an overworked Hemlock attempting to instill order in the ranks.

Not that I could blame them all. The words were... certainly not what I'd been expecting. Or maybe they were, and I'd just hoped he'd be smarter. "...So lemme get this straight... I try to spare as many of your people as I can. Prevent as much bloodshed as I can..."

"By sending _them!?"_ The Faunus spat towards Jasper, the Team Leader subtly flipping him a finger in return. "And even then you hold back, coward! You lack the resolve for this fight! Blood Hounds..." He worked up another gobbet and deposited it at my boot. My bad leg, too. Probably knew I couldn't move it away in time, no doubt. "I spit on those creatures, but I'd spit on you a hundred times more to protect my brothers and sisters in arms!"

"...Is that your final...?"

" _Glory to the White Fang!_ "

 _' **...Every** godsdamn time... **Fuckin' idiot!** Am I the **only one** left in this fight that can actually **think** worth a damn!?'_

" _...Twitch!_ Everything ready?" I asked, slowly but deliberately tearing my eyes away from that impressive glare to glance at Dai Jin, the wiry Trapper perking up almost comically at being addressed, head tilted to the side. "That little demonstration I asked for? The one we discussed?"

The young man's eyebrows rose, understanding dawning on the eyes that I could see through his eye holes, squinting in a glee that sent a shiver pulsing its way down more than one spine. **"O-oh, you mean** ** _that!_** **"** He shifted from foot to foot, counting off on his fingers for a second before nodding enthusiastically. **"Most definitely, Boss."**

Nodding, I held out my hand. Jingwei's eyes followed every motion as the Trapper moved forward, and deposited a thin device in my palm, grimacing at the sight of the big red button that topped it. "What... What is that!?" I ignored him, looking the trigger over, and hefting it slightly in my prosthetic, surprised at just how light it was. " _Carson!_ "

"I trust you lot've checked everywhere?" I asked, addressing the Trappers once more. The White Fang Commander spat and snarled at the prospect of being ignored like this. "Found everyone ya could? No hidden chutes, escape routes, or...?"

"Do we look like amateurs, Carson?" Fullmark voiced, crossing his arms with an expression of mock indignation. Guy might be a merciless killing machine, but at least he knew how to make a guy laugh, or at least was a damn sight better at it than the Atlesians. "Place is cleared... Of the _living,_ anyway."

 _Aaaand_ he had to ruin the moment. Damned Trappers.

"So, should I tell him, or do you wanna do the honors?" I gave him a look, one that actually put him back a step and clearly showed what my answer was. "Well then, have fun."

The Faunus snarled, his compatriots struggling along with him, though Hemlock's men fulfilled their roles adamantly. Corvus, for his part, dealt with the Commander personally, moving him forward so that he was next to me, both facing the snow-capped mountain that concealed the hidden bunker beneath.

"I don't care what you have planned, Human _Scum! Atlas Dog!_ " Ah, great. Back to insults yet again. Hopefully, this next bit would put an end to that once and for all. "The White Fang will _never_ stop! Send your armies, send your tame Trappers, send them _ALL!_ _WE WILL NOT SUBMIT! WE WILL NOT STOP! NOT UNTIL...!_ "

I sighed wearily, and pressed the button with a metallic thumb, the Trappers all scrambling for their ears except for Corvus, who maintained his grip.

It was a nice rant, some real fire building in the eyes of his men. Fire that was swiftly quelled as easily as his voice was by the all consuming * _BOOM*_ that shook the ground beneath us, and the whole of the surrounding area with its fury. Multiple explosions, chained and coordinated so tightly, that each individual blast was caught up and only added to the single deafening cacophony, wracked the hill and the concealed base within from peak to base. Entire sections collapsed inward, perfectly placed to guarantee visual grandeur, and leave us with nothing more to worry about than the noise and a heavy gusting breeze that raged through the clearing.

Someone was screaming, one of the Faunus, I suspected, or perhaps curses from Fullmark; it was impossible to tell. All that mattered was the scene of absolute and perfect destruction playing out before me, so reminiscent of AMBR's first mission so long ago. Then, I'd been right at the center of it, too close to get a proper view or appreciate the raw destruction of a such a landmass being wiped off the map.

It was incredible, in a way. Terrifying, too...

All in all, it took several minutes for sound to return completely to normal, and even longer for the smoke to clear, the dust cloying at my eyes, though it was nothing I wasn't used to, merely donning my goggles to avoid the worst of it, and catch a look at the thermals roiling within, heat signatures spreading, fusing rock and steel together in warped clumps.

Quite a few of my people were patting at ears amidst their own shocked amazement. They'd been briefed, of course, though I doubted they'd thought it possible. Not enough to bother imagining it, at any rate, and the imagination had _nothing_ on this. As for Jingwei, he was still just lying there, staring at the broad mound of crumbled rubble that stood as all that remained of his once proud installation.

A base that had housed dozens, a critical point for his movement throughout this entire region, had been reduced to dust and slag right before his very eyes.

He looked shocked, expression blank and not entirely comprehending. He could already see it. Had no doubt worked out the logistics in his head, his own grasp of the facts found wanting. He was a smart man. Capable. Protective of his people...

I hoped Ironwood was able to salvage him after all this was said and done. He deserved better than this... _Barely._

"...H... _How?..._ How could you have possibly...?"

" _Team JADE,_ " I said in a voice far stronger than I would have thought possible over the ringing in my ears, the Avian Faunus not turning around, unable to tear that impressive gaze of his away. I didn't mind. I knew he could hear me. That's what was important. "Y'all assumed they were the spearhead to our attack. That we must've sent them to infiltrate your little hidey-hole sometime just 'fore our ship arrived. And you'd be right. Well... _half_ -right."

Gods above, what would Joel say if he could see me now? What would Max or Reika have thought?...

"Atlas'd been strugglin' with the location of your base for quite some time, wonderin' how you managed to hide such resources, and somehow be organized 'nuff to bring 'em all to bear at a moment's notice. That implied a single, large-scale musterin' point, which I took to mean one of the old shelters back in the good ol' Mantle days when they thought the world would end, and the Grimm would flood over us all."

I laughed then, though I was not really sure why I did it. A few of the Troopers shifted uncomfortably, Echo and Hemlock included. JADE merely observed with a calculated air about them, at least on the faces I could see, no doubt intrigued.

"Now, I've seen a few myself, truth be told. Vacuo was maintainin' a few in the Badlands right 'fore the whole region up and got split durin' the war, with us in the middle. Mostly just glorified storm shelters and bandit hideouts at this point." I shrugged, crushing the detonator and tossing the mangled pieces over my shoulder, much to Dai's consternation. "'Course, Mantle's got quite a few more, and we couldn't risk ya figurin' us out. We'd only get the one shot 'fore ya scarpered."

"W-w-we were invisible. Ghosts..." Jinwei murmured, Corvus chuckling a bit before I shut him up with a raised hand. "But... B-b-but you..."

"I'll admit, you made it hard for us. Y'all can be proud of that," I told him, using the same level expression. Not quite condescending, but not quite encouraging either. "Thing is, while these places have food and water aplenty, to last out here, they'd also need decent heatin'. That meant Dust, and lots of it." There was arguing going on behind me, whispered grunts and questions.

Cherry had finally made it out as well, having finished up her duties, no doubt, efficient as ever. Right now, Echo must have been holding her back.

 _'No, I don't want her to see me like this...'_

"The Schnee Dust Company already cleared these places outta the stock stored here. That meant ya had to be gettin' it from somewhere else. From there, it was just a matter of rootin' out sympathizers. And, as you can imagine, our friends over there have quite a lot of experience in that regard." Fullmark waved, Jingwei flinching back as if struck. "Your friend never knew. Just sent the Dust in unmarked crates like always, 'cept this time with a little somethin' extra... _Four_ somethings, to be exact. Guess you can work it out from there."

The bird man's face went pale as the blood fled from him, almost matching Joel Ambrose's hair color in pigment at this point. "That was... Y-your Trappers have been here for...!?"

"About four days now, yeah." My face was impassive, carved from stone for all the emotion I let show. "Think about that _carefully,_ Turk... Four whole _days_ of them movin' about your base, completely undetected. They had this little stunt ready and waitin' in _two,_ and you were none the wiser... Do you understand now?" Veins were pulsing in Jingwei's neck, his jaw tight, sweat beading his brow. He turned his neck, staring at the new landmark with renewed horror. "I could've pressed that button the second I got into range if I'd felt like it... And you went and made the _very_ poor choice of willingly _not_ listenin' to me."

Cherry was clutching Echo's arm tightly, not looking at me. Good.

"You get it now? I _tried_ to settle this without any loss of life. I _wanted_ the best for your people, but you wanted to go play chicken! You didn't want to hear me out! You went and forced the issue, and your people paid the price for it! Every soul that lost everything in there is on _you!_ Not me!..." I bent forward so that my metal index finger could harshly point right between his eyes, " _...You._ "

Another lie to add to the pile? Maybe... But some of the best lies were the ones that, more often than not, were true.

"...Why?..." His voice, once strong and defiant, was now a broken shell. Hollow and brittle. "W-why show me this?"

I looked down at him then, outlined by the clouds of debris and ash-tinged snow. He was afraid. Afraid for his people, afraid of me... And why wouldn't he be? I must've made for quite the sight.

"I wanted y'all to know how this could've gone down. How it likely _would've_ gone down had anyone else been at the helm. You're a lucky man, Turk Jingwei. Remember that, and remember this..." I said coldly, eyes flashing in a way that made him fall backwards onto his backside, scrabbling with bound hands in the snow. "It's better to work _with_ me. _Not_ against me... The Blood Hounds, Project APEX. You're gonna to tell me everything you know about them, and then some. And this time..."

We both looked back to the destruction before us, one shivering with uncontrolled nerves, the other as still and mechanical as the arm he bore.

"...This time I _ain't_ askin' nicely."

* * *

 **(Sometime Later)**

 _'Huh... Wonder if this is anythin' like what Hero always had to deal with?'_ Motion sickness? Ha... And to think I'd always laughed along with everyone else.

 _"Y'know, not too sure drinkin' more's the best way to go 'bout dealin' with this."_

I closed my eyes tight, letting loose a low ragged growl between dry heaves, and easing back on my haunches in an attempt to steady myself before wiping at my mouth with the back of my palm; the flesh and blood one this time. My head was pounding enough already without making that unfortunate mistake again. Instead, the artificial limb reached for the flask at my side, throwing back another quick swig of burning amber-colored liquid.

 _"Seems like it'd be compoundin' the issue just a tad, in my opinion..."_

 _"Disgraceful. What would your friends say if they could see you now? Get a hold of yourself!"_ A sharper voice overrode the first, clipped and efficient, dreadfully familiar despite the alien lack of empathy.

"Duly... _agh,_ noted... both of yous," I spat back bitterly between gritted teeth, my stomach roiling as the humming vibrations of an airship in flight worked their way through the steel, and up my quaking limbs, settling somewhere around my midriff. The exact worst spot for it to be at a time like this. "Now kindly stop yappin'! Bit... _ugh..._ busy here...!" I wretched, barely giving myself enough time to get back to the bowl before things once again got messy.

 _"Now that's certainly no way to be talkin' to yourself!"_ the lighter of the two called back over the noise, my eyes peering back over my shoulder to take in my unwanted companions in better detail. Like looking in a damned carnival mirror from one of those circuses, a version of Ben Carson sat perched up on the sink, one not bent over a toilet in his smalls, dressed in the poncho-bearing gear he loved, living amongst friends he loved.

" _Playin' favorites again. Typical."_ The other stood leaned against the wall, arms crossed over the starched chest of his dress uniform, hair schooled back against his scalp. Benjamin Carson of the Atlesian Special Operatives Unit, face set in a permanent frown. _"Apologies. He's the fun one, not me. I just say it like it is."_ Don't think I've ever heard myself even say the word 'apologies.' That was always more Joel's thing.

Gods... I _hated_ the both of them, if for vastly different reasons.

 _"Now that's just rude! We're in your head after all!"_

"I know! That's the idea!" Besides, as much as I hated them, it wasn't as if I was much better myself.

 _"Good point. Um... sorta? It's not exactly 'good...'"_

Whether it was the drink, the stress, or just the simple need for a dissenting voice after months of 'Yes, Boss,' 'Of course, you're right, Boss,' I couldn't be sure. Unfortunate drawback of a mind like mine, I was smart enough to argue with myself and be good at it... So good, I'd made a pair.

 _"C'mon, we can't keep this up!"_ "Nice" Ben said, worry finally tinging his voice... _my_ voice... Damn it, I was too messed up for this. _"You've gotta know that much!"_

"Sounds like I should ' _know'_ a lot of things." The words came forth in a low bitter growl, fingers digging into the bowl with a splintering whine of bending metal. "But it's the things I _don't_ know that's gettin' to me. The fact that no one else seems to know 'em either's even worse!"

 _"You couldn't have figured it'd turn out like that,"_ my copy pleaded, leaning forward with what was supposed to be a comforting shrug, and was just as bad at pulling it off as I was. _"Jingwei was the high-rankin' White Fang goon in the whole region, or the highest we knew of, at any rate. If anyone was gonna know anythin' about where those bastards are hidin, it should've been'...!"_

"But he _didn't_ know!" The copy flinched back, almost losing his balance in the process. Had to wonder why my mind did that, and bothered with realism at a time like this, though I suppose it was nice to know I could still be so grounded, even during... well, something like this. "Cocky bird didn't know a damn thing! Nothin' about the Hounds, nothin' about that Black Queen bitch, nothin' about... about Max..."

All that work, all that effort in search of leads, days of preparation and planning, a whole godsdamn mountain leveled in the attempt... and I'd learned absolutely _NOTHI...!?_

 _'O-oh shit...!'_

My stomach rebelled at the thought of those Faunus that hadn't walked away; the ones I'd all but killed with a few stray words and a need to prove a point, despite what I'd told Jingwei to the contrary. JADE might have done the deed, but I'd as good as put the gun to their heads, and pulled the trigger myself. The next few minutes were spent lurching and shivering, damning Turk Jingwei and my own drink-addled overactive imagination all the while.

 _''...Wasted effort,' ha, ha! Story of my life...'_ I fell to the side and sagged against the wall, wishing I could just order the room to stop swaying. Seemed to work for just about anything else around here.

 _"They didn't give you an option."_ "Bad-Ass" Ben sighed, shaking his head, my head... This was going to be confusing. _"What were you supposed to have done? Waste your people tryin' to crack that egg open the old fashioned way? Leave 'em alone? We all know you couldn't just do that."_ I groaned, tapping my head back against the wall, hoping a steady rhythm would help clear things up, or at least beat back the pounding headache. It did neither, and still the hallucination went on, making sense, too. That was the worst part. _"Jingwei made his bed. Can't keep blamin' yourself for others' stupidity. If you let this end up like it did with Pyrrha..."_

"Shut... up..." I murmured barely above a whisper through cracked lips, screwing my eyes up tight at the buzzing Dust fueled lights overhead. "Just...!"

 _"Yeah, that's goin' too far!"_

 _"You're thinkin' it, same as me. We know it, but here he is all the same, drinkin' himself silly over a girl who got herself killed! Just like Dad back when **SHE** left!"_

 _"Pyrrha did it to save him...!"_

 _"From blowin' himself up, right? Which he still hasn't dealt with properly either. And look where it's landed him...!"_

" _SHUT THE FUCK UP!_ "

The flask was in the air before I could help myself. Tin crashed pointlessly against the empty space surrounding the sink, and skittered across the vibrating floor until it bounced against the far wall. Noise echoed painfully in a space I was now blessedly alone in, machine arm held out rigidly before me for a few moments as it slowly wound down to blessed silence...

"Uh... Specialist Carson? Are you...? _Oh!_ " Echo's voice sounded as tired as he looked, at least that was the impression I got when the door to my quarters slid open and my aide flinched back at the sight of me. More a reflex to salute than my appearance, having straightened myself up considerably and ridden myself of the stench in the short time I'd had to rush to the door, knee creaking and screaming the whole way.

Still, it gave me an alibi to take a bit longer than expected, limping along as I was. Made for a great excuse to miss meetings, too. Hated those. Could always read the minutes for a quick summary after the fact. Less blowhards that way, I've found.

I hid the signs of my extracurricular hobby, something I'd gotten quite good at in the months since Beacon. "' _Boss,_ ' Echo. Any news?" Despite the ingrained loyalty, he still took a moment, eyebrow raised slightly, staring me up and down. Loosing a played-up sigh for effect, I snapped my fingers with a ringing *clink* of grinding steel, which woke us both up. "Garrett, ya need somethin'?"

"Just, uh... J-just an update from the bridge, Boss." His bleary-eyed gaze fell to the ever-present Scroll in his hands, nerves pouring off him in waves. Poor kid needed a break; we all did. "The prisoners have been processed, and transport from Mantle has been arranged, pending your approval. And according to the Navigator, we should be back home in Atlas within a day or two, if the weather keeps."

"And some well-deserved leave for everyone, if I have any say in the thing, anyway." I clapped him on the shoulder, wincing when I realized I'd all but decked him with a metal limb. "Woops. Sorry 'bout that." He waved it off with his usual air of attempted professionalism, managing enough for the both of us. Gods bless him, once they stopped pissing about. "Anything else?"

"Anything?... Oh, I, uh... I only wanted to make sure you were alright, Boss. Thought I heard you talking to someone." He peered over my shoulder, taking in the mess with more grace than I or the whole of Atlas paid him for, blushing slightly. "Did you... have a guest, or...?"

 _Ha!_ Gods, I wish...

"Nah, just goin' over my report for the briefin' the good general will no doubt want." Slap on a cocky grin, give him what he expects to deflect questions. "Gotta find just the right words to explain how I wound up doin' the impossible. _Again_."

"And you told him to 'shut... the eff up?'"

Ooh, smart challenge. Kid was learning something from me after all.

"Was practicin' rebuttals. Deliberations got a bit heated." He nodded slowly, accepting the lie with a nervous smile and a laugh, all too trusting...

* * *

That night I made a mistake. A stupid, sentimental error. One that never should've have happened, and that I swore every single time would be the last...

Echo had left for a well-deserved couple hours rest, grinning and proud of himself and our team's accomplishments. And why shouldn't he be? We were the heroes. We'd struck a blow against the terrorists that had evaded capture for years. Several of them at that.

As for me, I found myself seated at my cluttered desk, rifling through scattered mission reports of the last few weeks, inventory charts for the ship, briefing summaries for my eyes only, technical readouts of various systems, personnel requests for leave and some such... Namely, all the myriad little things that went into ruining my sleeping schedule in the process. Not that I minded much. The last few nights were nothing but looks back at burning amber orbs, wicked laughter, and a hero falling in front of me again, and again, and _again._

I'd been attempting to sort through the mess when my bleary-eyed stare had fallen, as it so often did, on the desk's small side drawer. From there, it was hopeless, my hand already pulling it open, and digging through what detritus I'd tossed within to act as cover, and pulling the small leather-bound booklet from within, staring at it with unabashed longing.

To a casual observer, it wouldn't make much sense. But on the other hand, I _was_ an Atlas Specialist. Hell, I probably had information on this desk that many opportunistic sods might kill to possess, not to mention the holder of a rather large sum of personal wealth gathered through... _discrete_ means. And yet, this book and what was contained within was probably the most precious thing I owned. It had been sent to me in an unmarked, weather-beaten parcel weeks ago by a friend. A treasure reclaimed from a place thought lost to monsters by a friend that could've been dead, for all I knew...

 _'Stop it. Stop it now...'_ a voice whispered in the back of my conscious thoughts, urging sense even as I unwound the leather binding and slid a picture from behind the cover.

It was a ragged thing, worn from weeks of constant handling, the words " _Team AMBR_ " scrawled across the top right corner in faded ink, but the image it showed was still clear enough. Four figures posed before an idyllic fountain, one that I wasn't sure still stood. I was upfront and center, having ducked down at the last minute contrary to the plan, crouched with my good arm wrapped around a much shorter girl with raven dark hair and violet eyes that gleamed with blushing embarrassment. Reika, my partner in crime...

Standing over the two of us, surprised, exasperated, but obviously amused was Joel Ambrose, white hair standing on end from the sparks, but smirking despite himself. Strange how different he seemed in a photograph as compared to the real deal. He almost looked like a normal guy, and not the type of idiot to rush into trouble with a manic grin on his face, or fight to the last for a friend in need. At least, that was how I'd always seen him, anyway. The kind of hero people wrote about in stories that would endure anything and everything... But he was gone now, running away to who knows where.

And beside our stalwart Team Leader was a girl caught in the midst of a rare genuine smile that was all teeth, even as she aimed a kick at my head. Wavy auburn hair topped by twitching canine ears, reddish brown eyes brimming with mirth and emotion...

"Hehe... If only you could see me now, Max," I murmured softly, setting the photograph aside as I ran a metal digit gently across the precious pages, over inked sketches that easily could've passed for masterpieces in their own right by any normal standard. So much so, it was almost a shame they'd never been meant to be seen by any other save the hand that drew them, and a select few souls besides.

Near-perfect depictions of both people and places, rendered in awe-inspiring detail, yet there was something more. Some nameless quality of life that made them more than just simple photographs or copies of what the plucky Faunus girl had seen.

The last vestiges of someone lost to me. The girl I had come to care for and love, against all practical sense, right alongside one that I considered my sister in all but blood. Both taken from me without a trace...

"I'm someone important now... Got people salutin' me and everything. Tin Men, at that... Who'd have thought, huh?"

I shouldn't be doing this. Just throw the damned thing back in the drawer, grab the flask, and deal with it as you've always done. Don't do... whatever _this_ was.

"Yep. Put me in charge, despite all my whinin'. Atlas' really got some screws loose, don'tcha think?"

Talking to a book. Good show. Really something to inspire confidence in the men my frazzled aide had no doubt set outside my door to keep an eye out in case I needed anything. Men who could be eavesdropping right now, wondering how it was their Specialist had cracked so badly in the head.

But they wouldn't be, and I knew it, my paranoia unfounded. These were good soldiers; good people. Most of them were. Even the Trappers, though they'd never admit it.

At the very least I doubted most would countenance lying to a girl - a hero, one who considered herself my friend, and, to my own regret, I did likewise - filling her head with lies about destiny and purpose, all to defend another girl that I loved, and further the schemes of others. The people who, by all rights, should have been expected to defend her, and not the other way around.

 _'Then just sit by, and let her take a sword meant for you, not even managing to put a bullet in the madwoman that did the deed,'_ my thoughts added snidely, a bitter taste filling my mouth. _'Well... at least the pictures are nice...'_

Many of the objects depicted I recognized from our shared time in Vale, lips tugging slowly upwards despite the bitter twins of nausea and longing knotting themselves about my gut like the heads of a finicky Taijitu. Even now, after weeks of flipping through the bloody thing, it was still a surprise to see some of the more subdued pieces of artwork; the ones I hadn't expected that first lonely night, and still couldn't all this time later.

Going off her rather... _spirited_ personality, most who'd met the lovely Maxine Argus would've assumed that her personal sketchbook, much like herself, would be aggressive, direct, and not at all appropriate for squeamish viewers, much of it dedicated to her best moments: fights against the Grimm, particularly memorable bits of 'fun' where she could enact her darker impulses in peace. And to be honest, it wasn't as if they were exactly wrong in the assumption.

These pages were chock full of the sort of things that had made poor Echo wince and go pale when I'd shown it to him during a particularly bad night when there'd been no booze to drown my sorrows under. My mistake, the last of which I'd resolved to let my people see on this ship. A smidgen of drinking on the side would maybe lose me some respect down the road, but far better that than the pity I saw hidden in my aide's eyes during those moments when he'd witnessed me breaking down over the all too familiar memories and observations between the hellish swathes of dark gruesome imagery.

Back-to-back pages devoted to AMBR and our fellow First-Years of RWBY and JNPR, vignettes of Psycho and Blondie sharing a sweet quiet moment when they'd no doubt thought no one had been watching, rendered right beside a half-formed doodle of the Faunus' partner standing nobly defiant, like some knight in a Kingdom fairy tale, that confident, half-mad smirk of his scribbled with near doting attention to detail. Reika teaching Rosie and a particularly icy heiress our brand of hand talk, or attempting to, anyway. Expression exasperated, but still concealing that spark of mute amusement even behind that old mask she'd used to wear. The kind of look she'd always tried to hide for whatever reason.

To see it here... To know Max had seen it, too...

 _'...I remember that day. Ruby's head was practically spinning, and Weiss kept complaining about how the flow of it was far too simple to constitute a whole language.'_ Trust Lady Know-It-All to miss the simple subtlety, though to be fair, it wasn't as if I'd helped much, content to watch the mute girl fumble through explanations with the bluntness I'd always loved in her. _'Reika... Are you even still breathing? If so, then where in Remnant are you?'_

"...I need you here, you know... You and Rei both. Heck, might as well throw in Ambrose while we're at it," I added, trying to ignore the shaking in my flesh and blood hand, the metal one as unfeeling and unrelenting as ever. "You guys might've actually been able to keep me honest, kick my ass, and keep me from getting such a big head about all... _this_."

Emerald eyes took in their surroundings, bare feet feeling the incessant hum of the engines powering the mighty airship along on its cutting path through the ice-choked skies. _My_ airship. Brother, I doubted I'd ever really get used to that. Not for as long as I lived.

"This lot... They mean well and all... but they've been letting me get away with practically anything these days."

I had to stop this. Stop this before I wound up...

"Oh, fuckin' hell..." I breathed out shakily to no one in particular, refusing the burning at the corners of my eyes with sheer force of will, and instead running a hand down my face as I leaned back in the chair, balancing on the precipice of tumbling back. "...To think things used to be so simple, huh?"

 _'Wherever you guys are... here's hopin' you're doing better than me...'_

* * *

-END

* * *

 **-OC Voice Cast Introduced this Chapter-**

Turk Jingwei - Corey Burton

Mika Sweets - Xanthe Huynh

* * *

 _ **A/N: Yep, the last few months have not been kind to Benjamin Carson. Famous, infamous, and caught up arguing with himself. Based that bit off the Limitless TV series where the character argues with himself, a good self and a 'bad ass' version.**_

 _ **As always feel free to leave a comment or a question, hope to see y'all again soon. -Mojo**_

* * *

 _ **(Next Chapter: The White Fang sends a message. A brutal one.)**_


	3. Chapter 3

**Edited as of (9/16/19)**

 **PB: Da-Awesom-One**

 _ **(Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY or its characters, they belong to Monty Oum of Rooster Teeth Productions. Those characters you see not from the show, like Team AMBR themselves, are my own OCs created for the purpose of the story.)**_

 **"…" – Spoken**

 **' _Italics'_ \- Thought**

 ** _A/N: So heads up, this chapters a violent one. Just thought I'd mention that now._**

* * *

ON THE HUNT

* * *

 ** _-Maxine Argus-_**

The Badlands of Remnant were many things, possessing as many faces as the disparate settlers who called the rebellious region home.

It was violent, obviously. Hands down. So hands down, you'd have to be an idiot not to notice the screeching herds of bestial Grimm and raging storms that could flay the flesh off even a proper Huntsman in seconds.

But that was hardly everything. Just... _most_ of it.

Lots of people only saw the bad, and missed the view. And a damn fine view it was, at that. The odd way the crimson cliffs sides and rock spires almost seemed to shimmer along the horizon in the fading light, casting bloody hues of a hundred different shades across the seemingly endless sand and steppes. Pretty as a picture. One I fully intended to bring to life once our task here was done.

Oh yes, the Badlands could definitely be beautiful...

 _'Shame it's also dusty, smells like utter shit, not to mention hot as a damn forge...'_ my thoughts chorused as I shifted in the baked dirt, glassy sand chafing in places it was never meant to, seeping its way into the weaved links and layers of my gear, coating my haphazard, sweat-drenched locks. _'And people actually **willingly** live here!?'_

Grimacing, I reached to tug at the thin strip of dung-colored cloth I'd been issued to ward off the worst of the sun's harsh rays, which was more a tattered tarp I'd had shoved into my hands the moment I'd stepped off the musty Bullhead just like everyone else. Not that the foul-smelling rag helped much to begin with. Not with that great hanging orb burning ever brighter, its sluggish path overhead, beating down on the outcropping we'd named our perch as if hearing my mind's comments and replying in kind.

Stupid sun... Shining up there like the big, dumb, son of a...

" _Gyaah! C'mon!_ "

Canine ears - _my_ ears - twitched reflexively atop my head at the sound of my Pack Mate's anxious groans, bared teeth already clenched so hard, my jaw ached with the effort, biting back the low growl I felt welling up in the back of an all too parched throat.

"Just how long does she expect us to sit out here!?"

With a supreme effort of will, I shook my head, and peeked over my shoulder at Marley, catching a lovely view of the Leopard Faunus crouched low like we all were, punching and scratching at the ground in her boredom with one arm, the other tugging at her wild blonde curls with bullish abandon like some demented house cat.

For most, it probably would have been funny, though seeing as the arm she was using to carve up the ground - yes... _carve_ \- terminated abruptly at the wrist in a brutally sharp set of mechanical claws that ticked like clockwork with every tiny motion, the effect was a bit sullied, somewhat.

" _Tch..._ Scales, how much longer!?" she whined, throwing a pleading look at Cooper, our third and final companion on this godsforsaken ridge.

The reptile boy's scaled brow and slit eyes sharpened at the unwanted nickname, a raspy hissing sigh escaping curled lips. "Long as it takes, I expect." Oh, she wasn't going to like that, and evidently didn't, going by the crunching stonework ringing out behind me. "Alpha said wait for the signal. So just wait, yeah? Maxi's got the right idea."

I heard her let out a sharp 'tsk' at that, shifting back on her haunches. _'Wow...Did she really just 'tsk' him?'_

Much as I would have preferred keeping my name out of it, I was grateful it did the trick and shut her up, at least for a few seconds, anyway. Soon the arguing resumed, frantic and whispered as it always seemed to before a mission.

"Look, I don't, alright!? Bother Maxi, she's the boss."

Oh no, please don't...

"...Maxi? Hey... Hey, Maxi? _Maxi!_ " I cursed Shane Cooper for the bastard he was before the Leopard girl had even made it within arm's length, the anxious smell to hear almost palpable through the choking grit, tinged by some sickly sweet odor I couldn't place. "C'mon, I know you heard me!" A rough shove at my shoulder, forcing a deep intake of breath to steady instincts honed to retaliate. "Wanna ask you something."

" _Raye..._ " I murmured, voice hoarse from disuse and hours of coughing under my breath, "...If the question is anything near to 'how much longer,' I'm tossing you off this rock. Get me?"

For a moment, I wondered if she'd actually call me out on the threat, her body and scent tensing for a fraction of a second, a spike of fear, sweat, and adrenaline that spoke of barely-restrained violence. In a shocking twist, at least for her, the Faunus girl held back with a toothy grin. One I couldn't help but return, funnily enough. How I loved our little talks.

"Nah, got the hint..." Really? Took her long enough, "...but I was wondering about the prey this time. Who we're up against."

Oh?

She raised the metal claw, motioning towards the bustling hub of activity pulsing below us with a constant whine of Bullhead engines and distant shouts. A border outpost, an airstrip for incoming patrols and arrivals, and a hub for supplies and information.

From our vantage point, it was easy to make out the high chain link fencing and watchtowers, manned by obvious sentries decked head to toe in drab-colored gear that seemed almost too ornate to function, especially in this hellish environment.

Armored helmets and visors that obscured the top halves of their face, glinting with a fresh polish against the ever-present debris that seemed to permeate everything around them, chest pieces hung with survival gear, detailed vambraces affixed to wrists... Modern soldiery, mingling with something out of a fairy tale.

This contrast was the objective we, and several other similarly-placed Packs that had been positioned throughout the day, had been sent to 'deal with,' and in the way only those of Project APEX could.

 _'Gotta wonder how they manage in this heat, though...'_

Frankly, I thought they looked sorta ridiculous, but here I was in the dark fatigues and white sleeveless jacket attributed to White Fang attire, styled and touched up by classic Blood Hound fashion, of course. Pieces of chain-like weave were sewn in to provide that extra smidge of protection for the vital bits, crucial in the up-close, in-your-face melees that we preferred. Strips of crimson cloth to distinguish what we were; what made us different... Well, aside from the detailed masks, of course.

Those tended to garner attention just fine on their own. My own was the visage of a snarling, fang-filled maw about my eyes, framed by raggedly cut waves of auburn.

Not the most comfortable getup, but it served its purpose... and it showed off my arms, worked taut with olive-skinned muscle, and freshly inked by multicolored drabbles of patchwork design. A girl could do certainly worse, and my artist had done an amazing job... Why yes, yes she had.

"These look... different. Least from what I expected," Marley went on, crouching down beside me, her claw skittering across the ground in its own haptic motions and spasms. "Fancier. Thought it was only supposed to be bandits, horses, and smelly farmers out here?"

I didn't comment. Doing so would only serve to aggravate her, just as it did every other soldier that served among us. All but me, anyway. It was a sign of the Butcher's Song; something to be lauded, even for one so new to it.

"Ya really think horses would last out in a place like this?" Shane chuckled, the shorter Faunus biting her lip and glaring. "Though, to be fair, I don't see how the Humans can pull it off half as well as they do." Says the man not even bothering to hide away from the sun, if anything soaking it in like the sunning reptile he was.

I snorted at the mental image, shaking my head and following the arc of an incoming Bullhead on approach. Wouldn't be long now... "Guessing you didn't listen to the briefing, huh? Thought so."

"Did you?" I gave her a look, meeting her inquiring stare with one of my own until she backed down, muttering curses under her breath and grinding her fangs.

Truth was, I hadn't either, but I'd managed to pick up the abridged version on the way out here. Not that she needed to know that.

"Spearpoint." The word perked her up again, a glazed tinge leaving her eye; another little tick that I chose to overlook. "Shares a border with those 'smelly farmers,' or, more accurate to say it's surrounded by them. 'A cultured island of law & order.' Least that's what that stupid goat Iblis made it out as, and you know how long-winded he gets."

By what else I'd been told in those short stretches between naps and boredom, the place was supposed to be dug up inside a big mountain. A whole city of folks living like moles down there to avoid the worst of the Grimm, and using the resources they'd been lucky enough to stumble into to make a pretty big splash in terms of industry, at least to those that could get an audience, or knew about them to begin with.

Supposedly, the whole lot of them were more than a bit paranoid when it came to matters of security. Heavily militarized, overbearingly prideful in their own superiority, and just loved getting involved in every other major settlement's dirty laundry before retreating back under their isolated little rock like vermin, maintaining only scant few outposts like the one below that brought in trade, and, if our grandstanding comrade was to be believed, actual godsdamned castles along indistinct borders, with their less than skilled grunts to show they gave a damn about the rest of Remnant.

 _'Have to wonder how the bandits can stand having this bunch so close by...'_ Doubted it was easy, or bloodless.

"There's Faunus down there," Cooper spoke up, slithering his way up beside us, almost making me jump. It actually _did_ make Marley jump, which meant I had to be the one to force her back down so she didn't reveal our position and blow this thing before it even began. The Snake boy barely noticed, tongue tasting the air. "Plenty of 'em. It's weird."

"Makes sense. They never got the memo about Menagerie," I replied, picking out one soldier amidst a pair conversing in their little awning-covered tower, antlers standing out stark across his forehead. "Hell, Cerise said that in Spearpoint, _we're_ the majority." Even supposed to have a Faunus-blooded sod running the show. How about that...

"They're not like us." We both glanced at Marley, the young woman almost shaking with the effort of holding herself back. That much was obvious. "They might look it, sure, but they haven't had to grow up hated, be told that they're less than everybody else. They've never had to live as something to be ignored, stepped on..." I could hear her fangs grinding and gnashing, a low rumble building in the back of her throat, one I was quite surprised to find I shared.

 _'Well, when you put it like that...'_

"Still... Fighting our own people?..." Shane grimaced, lowering his eyes under Marley's glower, and turning focus to his weapon, a small sawed off shotgun, complete with a brutally sharp cleave beneath the barrel. "Sorta leaves a bit of a bad taste, don't it?"

At those words, the world opposite us on the other side of the compound exploded into sudden and all too chaotic life. Sparking projectiles, Dust-fueled rockets, went whizzing overhead, whistling and cartwheeling through as they went much to the clear panic of those running about within the base itself.

Unlike regular fireworks, these party favors collided or crashed down with near apocalyptic fury, blowing holes in the sides of prefabricated buildings, and, in one case, actually taking out the supports for one of the watchtowers, sending it crashing to the ground in a flaming mess.

And the sound... By the _gods,_ what a sound!

My ears were ringing even from this far away, and, from what I could make out through the milling mass of soldiers lurching and stumbling, their Faunus were much more adversely effected. Cerise had wanted something flashy; something to catch the eye. And all in all, I think I'd more than obliged her. The fact they also hit like missiles couldn't have hurt.

" _Woohoo!_ Best distraction _ever!_ " Raye cried out, punching the air with a whooping howl. One I probably should've chastised her for, but with the cacophony going on down there, I doubted it truly mattered. "That the signal? _That the signal!?_ " The nod I gave her must have made her day.

"Hehe... Fighting them, that gonna be a problem?" I cocked my head thoughtfully, feeling a smile tug at my lips in the face of such pretty fireworks. The words aimed squarely at the young man next to me, who was trying and failing to conceal his own grin at the show. "Still time to back out, y'know. If you're interested. Promise I won't tattle."

And I wouldn't. Another surprise... Guess it was the day for them.

"A problem? Not at all, Milady!" He groaned with an indignant huff that was far too grandiose to ever pass for genuine, amusing enough that I only smacked him lightly for the "Lady" comment. The soldier smoothed back a strand of coppery hair while pulling the slide on his little bruiser of a weapon, letting loose an oh-so satisfied chuckle.

Raye was making her own preparations, stretching her steel-tipped claws before her Aura sparked into violent life along the length of the arm, the temperature in the air notching upwards by degrees while her arm steamed and hissed white with sudden overwhelming heat.

A nasty little Semblance, that, and fair reason for Iblis to dislike our little pack... Well, _one_ of the reasons. I'd made sure of that. Something about him... His attitude towards me, it all just pissed me off for some reason I couldn't quite explain.

"Can't have you guys showing me up, after all. Glory to the White Fang and all that."

And all that... Glory to the White Fang, indeed.

The sounds of battle already drew the attention of all present as Blood Hounds spilled from the hills and crags using more of the streamers as cover, firing and howling as they ran to goad the enemy into facing them, moving with speed that was thought reserved only for Huntsmen and Huntresses, every bounding step bringing them closer to their prey.

When two people fought, each standing their ground, awareness of mortality couldn't just be turned off, even by the bravest and most courageous, though you had to admit the Blood Hounds - and, to a lesser extent, the Red Hand's vaunted Trappers - had come damn near close.

 _"A soul that wants to live has no defense against one who doesn't care if they live or die. And Maxi, **every** soul wants to live."_

My father's words... Still wasn't sure how much I really enjoyed hearing such brutal logic, but I'd seen the results for myself in combat.

They would be hit the hardest, which was why our Pack Head had bolstered them with our wildest; those closest to letting the Song screaming in their heads consume them in its tune, becoming lost to the Butcher's call on a more permanent basis. The weakest of the strong, also by virtue the likeliest to last, and the most appropriate to draw the attention of the strip's defenders when they were at their most vulnerable, during the shifting of aerial patrols when the skies were bare.

They would bleed, but they _would_ make it.

Meanwhile, her strongest - those like us three, or so I preferred to think - were to hit them from the opposite front, causing as much damage as we could, and working to meet our siblings in the middle, making sure that those clear blue skies stayed nice and clear.

A blunt plan; direct. Just the kind we preferred...

"Use 'em if you've got 'em!" I said standing up, tossing aside the cloak and reaching for the armored pouch hanging alongside the pair of crimson plated axes holstered at either side of my waist, fingertips gently caressing the serrated teeth that made up the closest's killing edge as they went to crack the seal of the container.

My partners needed no further urging, scrambling to their feet and reaching for their own almost simultaneously.

Together they withdrew small, tab-like syrettes filled with a vibrant blue liquid that, in the right light, almost seemed to contain a luster all its own, like a glittering jewel... if one that contained a more sinister aspect behind its faceted shine.

The Butcher's Brew. The substance that made the Blood Hounds what we were and more. A source of power that stole fear and doubt, replacing the dual weaknesses with strength and purpose... and rage. Can't ever forget that. It bleached the mind of thoughts of mortality in time with its song, rewarding violence with pleasure and tingling synapses, mercy with rage.

No purer emotion existed in us; none at all. And as terrifying as it was to witness, watching a Faunus barrel forth with the primal fury of raw instinct combined with ingrained training was a terrifying thing to see, and damned inspiring if it was on your side. We might have lacked the discipline of the Atlesians, but we made up for it in skill and fury to match it.

Discipline wins wars, but Fury wins fights. Win enough fights, and you'll carry the war. Rebuilding afterwards was what the rest of the White Fang was for.

The manner in which they administered their dose varied, Raye slamming the needle home in the side of her neck with a satisfied hiss of audible longing, while Shane stuck his bicep hesitantly, loosing what could've been a whimper.

The end result, however, was the same, and nearly as immediate as they were obvious. Convulsions wracked the two Faunus, sending them staggering backward with agonized grunts as sweat built across their brows and their breathing quickened, swiftly growing ragged and hoarse. Veins bulged outward from the injection sites, and slowly... ever so slowly, Aura began to build across their bodies, burning away the pain until only pleasure remained.

Soon enough, the symptoms eased, their muscles ceasing their erratic dance, and they stood clear-eyed with grins that would have made a Grimm flee in abject horror across their faces. That was their ordeal, one no doubt shared by those fighting and killing below.

...And not a thing I could partake in.

In my hand was a syrette, but not one filled with the Brew, at least not a proper dose. Rather than the rich sky blue, this liquid was the pink hue of watered-down vitae. A catalyst; an adrenal booster that could only mimic the Butcher's effects to a near-laughable degree. It was a thing reserved for New Bloods and rookies. Something to teach them where to stick a needle, and how to fight properly with your blood up.

Put far more bluntly, it was a joke. One that left me with a fury that almost hurt.

This was supposed to have been my moment. The mission I could become a Blood Hound in truth after weeks of promises, waiting, faithful training, and doing my best to prove myself.

Dad's influence again, no doubt, or maybe Falkner's. Either way, I was _pissed..._

 _'Too bad for the Spearpoint bastards, then.'_

Those doubts and thoughts of revenge faded as I completed the little APEX ritual, my breath hitching for a moment at the sharp stab of pain when I tossed the needle aside, only to ease once more into long slow gulps for oxygen that left me feeling lightheaded, numb in some ways, yet so much more alive in others. My pupils dilated as heat like fire coursed through my blood from my ears to my toes, Aura screaming for release while the world took on a depth of focus that made me almost ache to take hold of a brush and express it upon a canvas.

With no brush in sight, I settled for grabbing hold of _Barghest_ instead, drawing the twin axes in trembling hands before loosing a howl that could've carried for miles, carried and added too by every other Blood Hound that heard it.

A sound that chilled the enemy's blood, and a call that was ours sing...

The first soul to witness our approach, a young man stuck up in his tower, his eyes wide and watering behind the visor of his helmet near to pissing himself in terror, at first didn't know what to think at the sight of three small dust clouds sliding and stuttering down the cliff face. His partner was screaming something at him, far more focused on the screaming maniacs already butchering their way through the defenses on the far side of the compound to bother noticing some loose stones dislodged by all the explosions.

By the time he'd realized what we really were and brought his weapon crashing to his shoulder, his warning was lost in the chaos of the screaming engines and fighting below. The sun had already fallen beyond the horizon and the direct shift of fading twilight into dusk, combined with the pall of shadow cast by our perch, worked to mask my Pack's approach as we bounded across the landscape in great billowing blooms of debris that only served to shield us further from their desperate retaliation.

Cerise's tactic had thrown them off, and it wasn't until we'd almost reached the barb-crowned fence, charging into the light of search lamps operating almost by scent alone that they finally managed to get something approaching a bead on us.

And by then... By then it was far too late.

* * *

That soldier shouting his alarm had been afraid. They'd all been.

Salt, sweat, smoke, all stained the air, palpable in a way I could taste on my tongue, even as I charged into the waiting storm, axes in hand. Rounds tore up the ground at our feet, our enemies' fear filling my conscious senses. In that haze of the moment, hesitation bloomed, a question of right and wrong. A meaningless distraction swiftly stolen by the fury pounding in my skull, focus returning with the fiery tracer that zipped past my cheek.

That had been a close one. So close that I could still hear the whine as it'd cut through the air, clipping a few auburn strands, and feel the momentary heat of its backwash across my Aura... It was paltry compared to the warmth tickling my nerves, setting me alight with every breath. Sight, smell, sound, _touch_... The flames flickering and dancing in the light of the lamps, the scents filling my nostrils, the sound of clashing forces, the feel of acid burning in muscles that drove me forward step by step.

I needed to move. If I stopped moving, I would _explode..._ So much was happening all at once. Such joy, such exhilaration... Such _sensation!_

Through ammo falling at my feet like rain I leapt, Aura-fueled strength vaulting me clear over the barbed top of the fence in a single bound, hurtling like a cannon shell and passing close enough to the watchtower that I could see the stunned looks on the pair of hapless guards' faces, my masked reflection flickering across the surface of their helmets in the harsh glare of their lanterns.

And damn, I looked good, cackling like an auburn-tinged streak as gravity fought to seize hold of me once more. Moving fast, so very fast... Towards the prey, towards the hunt...

Hunt, _hunt,_ _HUNT_ _!_

Cooper was at my side a moment later, the Serpent boy lobbing a cylindrical something or other to the floor of the tower with midair flourish, howling something incoherent in my ear as our boots landed at a run, well inside the perimeter.

Whether he'd been screaming in terror or laughing like a madman, I couldn't quite be sure. Nor did I care much to start even if I had.

The catalyst keeping time with my heartbeat robbed me of such petty concerns. It made things simpler, kept me focused on the important bits, on what really mattered... like the explosion that took the top off the watchtower a moment later in a deafening boom, on Marley clawing her way through the steel fence, and then into the support struts of another watchtower, like a searing knife through cold butter.

My gaze landed on the pilots led almost by the hand towards their waiting craft, soldiers dragging them along...

 _'Prey! My prey! **MINE!** '_

Shane was already sprinting off one his own, towards his assignment, unnoticed by our scrambling foe, moving through the shadowy corners like the beast that gave him his scales, tossing more grenades through the ramps of Bullheads, even as some closed behind them and struts left the ground, but not for much longer. Explosions tore them from the air, renewed screams and cries of rending metal sounding in his wake, the enemy unable to keep up with his sinuous sprint, inhuman dexterity carrying him about like a shade.

Raye trailed in his wake, a raging torrent to his subtle weaving, tearing Spearpoint soldiers and flight crew to steaming ribbons. One managed to get close enough to the Leopard girl with a bayonet to stab outwards, only for her to catch it in her metal grasp, tearing it and his throat out in one savage stabbing thrust.

Not that they were the ones they should have been focused on, anyway. Not by a long shot...

 _'Find the prey! Find the fight! Keep moving! Always moving...!'_

A pair of them stood firing at my comrades with heavy pistols, actually managing to score impacts close to the sprinting Blood Hounds. Leaders, then; champions outfitted in long coats of dark grey and blank-faced helms that would have made them difficult to see in the night, at least to a Human's meager senses. To me, however, they stood out like beacons in a storm, the smell of shock and disbelief in their sweat, the fury in their spittle, and the adrenaline in their veins guiding me along like a tantalizing lure...

My heart was pounding so fast, it hurt with the effort of beating. My muscles ached... longing to swing the weight in my hands like a paint brush across its canvas, tongue tasting the smoke and dust in the air...!'

The first fell with a high-pitched screech of surprise and agony as I skidded on my knees behind him in a forward slide, drawing one of _Barghest's_ serrated edges across the back of one knee the Aura and thick padding of his greaves were weakest in a single sawing swipe, biting through muscle, tendon, and bone with the slightest tugging resistance. Resistance I shattered with a long, drawn out sigh, heat tinging my cheeks that had nothing to do with the exertion of kicking myself into a mid-air twist before his ally even knew what'd happened. Heat I intended to, and succeeded in, adding to with a single sidelong chop, using my momentum to drive it forward.

 _'Hunt... Survive... **FIGHT!** '_

The one still standing went down a second or two later, clutching at and gurgling from the fresh chasm I'd torn into the crevice between helm and gorget, warmth hitting my face. Aura failing in the face of such damage, he was gone before he'd even hit the ground, and I'd finished getting back to my feet.

Both were caught unawares before they could defend themselves, their faces covered so I couldn't see a damned thing... Irritation prickled at the haze, flickers of disgust that made me want to vomit at the vitae caking my cheek... Distractions I needed to cleanse, and wouldn't with this garbage.

 _Barghest_ whined and juddered in my grasp as one of its axes shifted to its ranged sub-machine gun format, exposing the shortened barrel that delivered my discomfort upon a soldier scrambling backwards into cover nearby, tearing him almost in two under the stacatto of Dust-tipped flechettes.

This was no Butcher's Song - not as I'd had it described to me, anyway - but the haze rippled at the spike of violence, taking the weak expression and burying it once more. Such doubts were for after the fight, after the hunt...

 _'Hunt_ _..._ ** _HUNT_** _ **!** '_

My ear twitched and I leapt aside, just outside the reach of a swinging sword, the soldier on the ground falling forward, scrambling like an animal in an attempt to strike at me.

Not a bad attempt, but not a good one, either. Not good enough, anyway.

I stamped down on his back with a crack of shifting vertebrae underneath the armor in his coat, leveling _Barghest_ at his swinging arm, pulling the trigger, and exalting in his keening whines, ending him with another swift burst before shifting it back to its axe form, the weapon still smoking.

Damn, I didn't have time to play around or enjoy myself. To really...

 _'This seems... **familiar...** '_

 _"Who gives a shit!? It's a **Grimm!** "_ I staggered, bringing a wrist up to my aching forehead. Nausea welled up deep inside... but it was strange. I could almost feel something underfoot, something struggling. Not the corpse, a... A Beowolf? I was in a forest. Unfamiliar, but... But why did I...? _"_ _We're supposed to kill it anyway! What does it matter how we do it!?"_

"Sh-shut up..." The words came forth as a whisper, palms digging so hard into the grips of my weapons, I was surprised I wasn't bleeding even with my gloves. Anger was building. Anger at being so... _helpless._

 _"Because...!"_ A new voice, not the bloodlusting primal portion of my mind, spoke up. This was... No... Not new. One of those voices that plagued my dreams, that echoed in my most vulnerable moments. But why here? Why now...? _"...By her blood... Look, do what you want, okay? Just keep it on your own time, and out of combat. That reasonable?"_

I _hated_ that voice. I _loved_ that voice... Damn it, _damn it, DAMN IT!_

" _SHUT UUUP!_ " I roared in a throat-tearing howl, fingers leaping for the triggers affixed along the haft, saw-bladed fangs revving to sparking life along the length of both weapons, screaming and howling into the dusk-strewn sky and the barest outline of the shattered moon above. " _SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UUUP!_ "

Nothing answered me back; of course it didn't... Only more cries from far-off fights, explosions from igniting Dust...

Nothing was there for me. But the doubts wouldn't leave me alone. I needed a distraction, my skin feeling hot and clammy. The haze wasn't helping; far from it. The excitement was fleeting. I needed something to drown out the dissenting voices, but where...!?

Blood... I smelled blood. And not the usual coppery tang, at that. It was the sickly sweet aroma cast off by blood tinged by the Butcher's Brew. A Blood Hound's blood, and more than just the one.

I sniffed about, trying to pinpoint the source, and found who I was looking for with near instinctive ease. A lone Spearpoint warrior caught away from his fellows. A Human, from what I could see, dressed in the same dark grays and blank-faced helm as the bodies at my feet, and wielding a pair of single-edged swords... Messers, I think they were called?

But that wasn't what interested me, or what drew my attention.

No... No, that would be the pair of bodies at his feet, dressed as I was, while another still struggled on the end of one of his swords. I couldn't tell who, not from this distance or in this madness, but I couldn't help but admire the way he managed to take another swing at the bastard that spited him before losing his head. His killer kicked him off the blade, looking about for another opponent, and catching sight of me staring at him.

His head declined a fraction of an inch, looking to the corpses at my feet, shoulders stiffening just a touch under all that armor. The scent of anger boiled underneath the coppery tang and metallic scent of oil, likely used to maintain his equipment. It was a scent that marked him out as a professional, or at the least detail-oriented... Of course, I didn't bother keeping that in mind. The man was skilled. That was all that mattered... Dangerous, though...

 _'Yeah... Yeah, he'll do **nicely...** '_

The thought pierced the haze almost as a sort of whisper, my feet steeping from my impromptu perch, giving the unmoving body one last sharp kick to make sure it _stayed_ unmoving. Didn't want any surprises, after all. I'd learned that early on my first mission with APEX. The special soldier, my prey, was moving, too, advancing slowly in an unpretentious stride, trying to look intimidating, no doubt. And who knows? To anyone else, it might've actually worked.

Me?... I just grinned wide, tasting the copper on my twitching lips. At least until another Hound with goat horns tried to take my kill, sprinting past me with a blade that was more cleaver than sword.

" _H-hey!_ Don't...!"

But he didn't hear me, caked head to toe in red as he was and hefting his weapon up to swing down, braying absolute bloody murder until he was silenced with one sword to the throat as quickly as the other had knocked his brutish weapon aside to clatter worthlessly to the strip. _That's_ when I charged, closing the distance with an Aura-fueled leap and a snarl of deepest fury.

The others had been gone, dead or dying, with nothing I could do. That was one thing, but that had been an ally. A comrade, if a hasty one.

Conan Argus said his daughter shouldn't get attached to things like camaraderie. That it would make me stupid one day. A Blood Hound might fight wild, but never stupid. Too bad for him, I'd never really learned that lesson, some ingrained instinct holding to the virtue, screaming that it wasn't a weakness.

Attacking him at this point wasn't honorable, but this wasn't wasn't a duel. And when the goat's meaty hand clapped down on the young man's wrist, leaving me open to knock his other sword aside and land a forward kick that sent his killer skidding backwards minus one of his swords, well... that made it _personal._ The Blood Hound had helped... Gods, I didn't even know his name.

"Thanks," I grunted, sparing the fallen goat a glance, trying to return his bubbling smile as gentle as I could manage given the circumstances. There was no verbal response, of course, and he was already gone by the time I looked back at my new target, now struggling back to his feet, rubbing at his stomach gingerly, and felt my hands shaking on _Barghest's_ rattling haft, my breath deepening as I reached and took hold of my Aura, letting myself give in.

From what I could make out, the loss of his offhand weapon hadn't put him off over much. He had another sword at his belt, a longer one, more ornate, and some kind of drum-fed firearm hanging off his side, and a pistol under his arm.

' _Of course I would attack the godsdamn armory...'_ Though it seemed he didn't carry shifting weapons. In fact, from what I'd seen, none of his people carried them. _'What the hell's wrong with them!?'_

No matter, too late to care at this point. I was already charging forward, ducking to the side an instant before he opened up with his ranged weapon in controlled bursts, with surprisingly shitty aim, which, in my right mind, I would've concluded as the likely reason he didn't lead with that.

But I wasn't in my right mind, ducking and weaving with inhuman speed spurred along by Aura, feeling the near hits graze my Aura, feeling the sure hits turn aside, much to his surprise, redirected harmlessly into the ground or over my head. Another powerful leap launched me into his range before he could step away, a spinning heel knocking aside his weapon, and my momentum carrying me into his guard.

"I am a Knight of Spearpoint! Lay down your arms, surrender, and on my honor I promise you won't be...!" he tried calling out, bringing his remaining messer to bear in response to my frontal attack, his voice steady and somewhat detached. Creepy in a way... but he was younger than I thought; my age, or not much older...

" _DON'T CARE!_ " It wasn't even a shouted reply, more a bestial spitting snarl of fierce violent intent that tore itself from my lungs, an affirmation aimed at more than just his words, the haze making me see red.

No, I certainly wasn't in my right mind at all...

Hell, by the time my axes had made first contact with his sword, I was barely even Maxi anymore. Now I was just angry. Angry that he parried and turned aside the same downward stroke towards his neck that had finished his ally barely minutes before. So angry, I pushed myself forward past his counter thrust, feeling the sword's edge graze the Aura across my throat, ducking past his side, and lashing out with the other sweeping hatchet.

His armor and Aura stopped the serrated edge from biting deep or even catching flesh, but that hadn't been why I'd made it, after all.

My opponent kept eerily silent, though I could smell the swordsman's prideful annoyance in the air as he leapt away, what had once been his fancy gun now hanging and clattering by its strap in two pieces, quite useless to anyone now.

That had been funny. I vaguely remembered laughing about it as I charged again, attacking from every angle I could think of, the guy about as immobile as any opponent I'd ever fought before.

Most people - the ones with a good grasp on their Aura, at any rate - tended to use the extra mobility it granted them. It was how I'd been trained back in the Pit during those early weeks of relearning how to move, and how to fight. I mean, if you had the ability to leap buildings, hit like a truck, and take a hit like one, you used it, right?

This irritant, however, was moving with practiced grace, pure economy of motion, barely even leaving the ground unless it was to run away. One moment, he'd be there, knocking aside an axe whenever I managed to pin him down, breaking out some fancy swordplay before turning his counter into an attack, and the next I would be forced back again, minus a few hairs or with a flickering line across my Aura for my trouble.

The Knight was playing defensive, completely at odds with how he'd been with two swords... Ducking, weaving, parrying just out of reach...

And what made it all the worse was that it was _working!_ And of course, the gods just had to pile it on. The Spearpoint warrior had been holding something back.

It happened at the moment I thought I'd had the swordsman pinned down, axe catching his blade in its serrated teeth and forcing it back. He was more artful, sure... but I was stronger. _Much_ stronger. And then he pulsed a sickening grey as his Aura sprang to life. At first I thought it was in an attempt to push me back, a laughable attempt that I braced for. Nothing, however, could've prepared me for the wave of disorientating nausea and vertigo that hit me a second later.

The world swayed, my head pounded like I'd gone all out the night before with only a bottle for company, acid staining the back of my throat as I fought to keep myself together. And it worked, the hangover receding only moments after it had begun. Unfortunately, moments was all that the clever son of a bitch needed.

Before I could even blink, he'd already maneuvered one of my axes aside and tore it from my grasp, leaving a deep cut across the meat of my bicep, tearing the haze aside in a reeling flurry of shock and instinctive panic. I stumbled, still off-balance, and he pushed me... No, not just that.

I cried out as his gauntlet sparked, my muscles spasming as I was forced onto my backside, the point of a sword filling my vision before I felt my mask torn away by the flat of his weapon. The crimson-marked symbol of the White Fang clattered away, leaving me to stare into that blank-faced visage directly, trying to inject as much defiance as I could into the look. It didn't go over well. I could hardly breathe, muscles shaking.

Dust? The bastard had hit me with a handful of _Dust...!?_ And that thing he'd done; a Semblance... How could he...!?

"Give up." His voice still had that sickening detached quality, as if I couldn't smell his anger, his pride at having bested me, his confusion at what was happening. "You can't beat me. Not while fighting as if you're in the middle of a tantrum. You're unfocused, unrefined, undisciplined..." He held up a mailed fist, droning on as he moved closer, something about duty and how I was under arrest. His gauntlet flickered with sudden life, electricity coursing down his fingertips. "...Why? Why do _this!?_ "

It was a genuine question, the need to know palpable in his tone. Shame he was about to be disappointed.

" _...Bite me, Human!_ " I gasped, managing to work out a small rictus snarl.

He reached out without fanfare, and as sparks rippled inches from my face, I couldn't help of be reminded of... _someone..._ But _who?_

 _"...but you're still my partner and friend. I've got your back whenever you need it. Someone has to, right?"_

The prey was pushed back mere centimeters from contact, or perhaps it was more accurate to say he was _thrown_ backwards by the hand of an invisible giant. Either way, he wasn't expecting the sudden follow-up burst of directed force that tore the helm from his face, or more accurately blasted it apart into night black shards. The action revealed a youthful, somewhat handsome face marred by fast-healing cuts, but, if anything, that only got my blood up. His skin was pale, with stark violet eyes and shorn dark hair staring back at where I lay, mouth working in panicked incomprehension.

Or where I had been laying, if the ground around me hadn't burst apart and propelled me at him like a howling beast, my remaining axe clutched in both hands and brought down again, and again, and again. Sword against axe once again, the warrior fell into step with his disciplined defenses, only this time I didn't care if he tried to redirect my weapon.

Where before he could parry my weapon aside, now I was putting my full soul and strength into each swipe, each swing, each sawing slice. Each guided by my Semblance, the weapon near weightless in my grasp even as it fell like a hammer against the anvil of his defense.

Scant hits nearly tore the weapon from his grasp and carried him bodily across the concrete in skidding back steps while I pursued. One miss tore a gaping wound in the concrete, stone chewed apart by _Barghest's_ roaring teeth.

He wasn't guiding the axe now, he was just barely keeping it away. I could see he wanted to draw his other sword. I intended to see he didn't get the chance.

Not that he wasn't fighting back regardless. Oh no, he was... but it didn't matter. The aches in my muscles didn't matter. How close his sword came to clipping flesh didn't matter. The electricity I danced and spun away from instants before it struck didn't matter a damn either.

 _'Were we even winning this battle?'_ In the flurry of combat, it could've been just the two of us still standing, for all I knew.

All that mattered now was attacking... Always attacking, _always attacking,_ _ALWAYS ATTACKING!_

I couldn't be bothered to look around and check, too focused on pushing my prey into a corner, moving on instinct and something more. My Semblance worked around me, shifting my weapon to catch sword cuts from impossible angles, my weapon carrying me forth to give me leverage, a rising upward cut that he avoided simply hung suspended in the air, allowing me to swing forth and lash outward with a spinning heel that rammed against his hastily raised arms, shifting bone beneath my boot.

Finally, my chance, the ground bursting underneath me again, carrying me into the air upon a hefty slab of concrete, at least until kicking outward with a triumphant howl, sending my short-lived ride flying down at him.

He dodged, of course, avoiding becoming a wet red smear by virtue of heartbeats, rolling into a defensive stance upon the ground a short ways away. It didn't matter, I landed hard, an outstretched hand tearing pieces from the fallen missile, and sending them crashing against my opponent's failing guard one after the other, a chunk the size of my fist catching him in the side of the head, stunning him briefly.

I wasn't going to miss this opportunity. Not when my soul showed bright, my body burning from the inside out...

 _"You might be a pain in the ass..."_ _Barghest_ crashed heavily against the knight's messer in a resounding * _clang_ * that made my ears ache, the sword already angling and turning to redirect the stroke, but I wasn't going to let him go. That trick was getting old. _"...but you're still my partner and my teammate. I'm not gonna just leave you on a bench alone, and hope you're okay."_

Screaming, I gunned the ignition trigger, bringing the serrated fangs to howling life once more, the sound drowning out everything. The voices in my head, the battle raging around me, the doubts... Oh gods, the _doubts!_

My prey tried to make a break for it, eyes widening as he made to pull his weapon away from the grinding teeth, and expanding even further when I reached out with my Semblance and took hold, forcing the weapons together with a whine of protesting metal, shrapnel cutting at our Auras, sparks flying until, with one last push, I sawed down the length of the sword, destroying the edge, the guard, and tearing away a good porting of the back of his gauntlet in the process. I backhanded the soldier, and smirked between ragged breaths at the stumbling manner in which he retreated, dropping the now all but useless weapon, and clutching at his hand, trying to tend to his fingers with clear signs of pain.

He'd been lucky, all things considered. I'd been aiming to take the limb, or at least a few appendages with that swing. Spearpoint craftsmanship was no joke. Shame the same couldn't be said of their weapons.

As for mine, I shifted _Barghest_ into its ranged form, leveling the crimson-painted weapon at the Knight in both hands. " _Give up!_ " I called mockingly, making to pull the trigger, to end this fight... only to sag forward as my Aura faded and the strength left my legs, a stream of Dust-tipped heavy caliber shells stitching up the ground at the young man's side.

 _'No... **NO!** N-not now! Not like this...!'_

Aura exhaustion, my Semblance reaping its damnable toll at the worst possible moment. I swayed dangerously, fighting with all I had to keep standing, to keep my weapon trained on... Wait, where did he go?

The sound of crunching gravel beneath a boot gave me just enough warning to hoist my now leaden weapon, miraculously catching the bladed length of an ornate long sword before a fist lashed out, crashing against my stomach, the air wheezing from my burning lungs.

Another tight riposte followed, one that I barely blocked. This time the sword point wheeled past my defense and scored a cut across my cheek, my Aura spread thin trying to mend what I now realized with a start was a host of injuries across my limbs and torso; wounds I hadn't even been aware of taking until now. Blood was leaking... Too much blood. _My_ blood...

" _Sh-shit!..._ " I gasped, shifting _Barghest_ back into its axe form, gunning the trigger and finding I was barely able to hold onto the chainsaw axe, fingers numb and unresponsive. "N-not like this!... I-I won't...!" My words were slurring, everything was slurring, the dark armored figure barely more than a dark-colored smudge at this point, cautiously working at tearing me apart.

Shane and Raye were probably off on their own, raising their own brands of hell, lost to the Butcher's siren song. Either that, or one of the lumpy indistinct shapes on the ground, of which there were far too many. Both were likely options by this point; I was still conscious enough to work that much out for myself,...

Either way, they were far too gone to help me now, my only hope to somehow take hold of my Semblance once again - an effort of will akin to grasping at a strand just barely in reach, yet so frustratingly impossible to catch - slipping through my fingertips like smoke the moment I tried to assert myself. And all the while that sword kept coming, pushing me, its wielder taking no chances, his caution likely the only reason I was still standing. But that wouldn't last...

 _'C'mon... **C'MON!** '_

 _"Not bad for a kid your age, though ya depend a little bit too much on that little trick of yours to get the job done. I'd watch out for that. Don't want it becomin' a crutch."_

Narrowing my eyes through a headache that could split stone and voices I wished to tear apart, teeth clenched so hard it was a wonder they didn't crack, I grasped outward for my Semblance, for the thing I hated like nothing else. That, at this moment, I _needed_ like nothing else.

Just a flicker, a second or two at most, enough to crush my foe where he stood, grind him into the dirt, bury him... _Anything!_ And I found it, too, eyes flashing with renewed sparks of vigor just as a sword was thrusting forward like a lance between them. My vision blurred at the edges, the sword point filling my vision for the second time this evening... and batted aside.

The death I'd been expecting was put off by a thin spear, plated and painted in an almost vivid shade of red, closer to pink, if anything, that seared into the retinas even in this dim light of search lanterns and flickering infernos.

A savior's stroke that caught the long sword at what only could have been the last possible moment, turning it aside and blasting the offending Knight back easily over a dozen paces with a cry. The only sign he'd managed to even come close was the barest thin line of crimson down my cheek, an injury that my Aura repaired almost as an afterthought before falling from the surface once more, just like my legs from out beneath me.

Rather than hit the hard concrete, however, a lean arm reached out and wrapped around my shoulders with a cored strength I could experience rather than just feel, guiding my aching body gently to my knees as if I weighed nothing at all.

" _Whew!..._ Close call there, Cutie." My mouth worked, unable to form a reply to the whispered, soft caress Charlotte Cerise used to croon in my ear, warmth tickling my canine ears like a lover. Enough to have colored my cheeks scarlet if I wasn't nearly certain the blood necessary wasn't already leaking from me as I thought, but the warmth was nice... The heat of the day and the battle had given away to an almost bone-chilling cold. "Didn't want to have to step in, but that was a little too close for comfort." A giggle sounded in my ear, making me shudder. "Such a naughty girl, scaring me like that."

"C-Cerise!?" I lulled my neck to stare at the deathly pale young woman, curtains of straight dark hair that blended easily into the night partially obscured a domino mask painted to resemble the gaze of a many-eyed predator. She was smiling, more contained than the usual manic twinkle, a thing that just barely showed the outline of one of her fangs. "Y-you...? You...?"

She'd been watching me. _Of course_ she had. No way Dad would let me go off on my own without some way of keeping an eye out.

It was irritating... but at the moment I couldn't help but appreciate it.

"' _Charlie._ ' How many time do I have to say it?" she chided, shaking her head and petting mine between the ears, making me jump. Getting to her feet and twirling the short spear about her lazily like a baton, that blasted Human gazed between us, sword held in a ready stance. I could tell he wanted to go for me, but Charlotte wasn't going to allow that. Not on her watch. "You... You said you're one of Spearpoint's Knights, right? A champion of order, chivalrous, brave, a philosopher... A master of arms." The way she said it was wistful, like a girl describing a storybook crush to anyone who would listen, all the while marching forward, careful to make sure she was between me and him at all times. "You look... kinda young. Not that that's a problem. I've just never seen one of you before, but I've heard plenty of stories, like how...!?"

I couldn't warn her. Hell, I could barely keep my eyes open. I was barely following the swordsman's lunge forward, sword coming down in an expert feint and riposte, both knocked aside almost effortlessly, the Human grunting with the effort of trying to catch her lazy return, trying to guide and turn aside her _Cavatica_ just as he'd done with my _Barghest,_ only from where I was sitting, it seemed much like she was guiding his sword, pushing him back with an ease born of overpowering Aura and inhuman muscle on a level that defied belief, especially when one looked at the willowy girl.

She was APEX, and as such the Butcher sang through her every action, granting her strength.

"Well... that wasn't very 'chivalrous,' was it?" the Pack Alpha mused, cocking her head before spinning her weapon about so quickly, I only heard the whistle it made as it sliced a fine line across the bridge of her foe's nose. "Are you sure you're a knight?" Rather than bother replying, he lunged forward, launching into a flurry of cuts, thrusts, ripostes... all brilliantly executed like a dance. A dance she danced right around, not even bothering to block. "Oh, that was...! Ah, almost!... _Ooh,_ you can do it!"

He couldn't, and though he remained silent, the bastard knew it, disengaging and pulling his pistol in one smooth motion, aiming it right at me, and likely intending to take me down with him if he could. I was the wildcard with the dangerous Semblance, after all.

I didn't even blink, the weapon was already tugged from his grasp before he'd even fingered the trigger, and the arm that'd held it bound tight above his his head, caught by a length of wires trailing from the willowy spear's haft. Charlotte herself picked at her 'web' while molding her behind him, giving him a light peck on the cheek for his futile efforts.

"Nuh-uh-uh! You're playing with _me_ now, handsome, not her! I know she's tempting, though." She nuzzled up to him, pulling him close and whispering in the young man's ear. His arm was flickering with Aura in an effort to keep the cutting wires at bay.

Too close, close enough that when she staggered back, swaying and looking punch drunk, I knew what must've happened. The bastard had been waiting. Waiting for the chance to use that Semblance of his again, though unlike me, it seemed that her reaction was far more directed enough that when he turned, blade sweeping in a low cut, she was barely able to raise her weapon to block.

The curious thing, though, was that she should've blocked it. The sword's trajectory had it rebounding off _Cavatica's_ haft, so why, then, did it almost seem to vanish, reappearing a moment later inside her guard, sweeping across her stomach while she ducked away? It was a light hit, but enough to pierce her Aura and the thin layer of armored weave, catching the flesh beneath.

I fell forward on my hands, trying to push myself to help her, fearing the worst. The Spearpoint champion was already pulling back, readying to lash outward with another thrust, and finish off the Spider Faunus where she stood... only he didn't. Instead he backed off, sword raised and face paling until what I could see of his flesh beneath the thin coat of blood and bruising was practically translucent. The cause of this strange reaction was easy enough to spot.

Charlie was just standing there, spear held loosely in one hand, a hand coming away from her midsection coated in crimson, rising to a face that stared at the life fluid as if entranced by the mere sight of it. A child admiring a jewel or pretty bauble.

Then... she started laughing, a slow building chorus of light giggles that slowly built itself into a cackling fervor. One that split the air. It was an insane thing, devoid of sense or reason, yet overflowing with ecstatic joy. She was happy. Happier than I'd ever seen her before, her once pale face lit up with an internal radiance as she stared at the now very unnerved Knight.

"...Do it again!" she murmured, barely above a whisper to even my ears. I couldn't keep my eyes open, my last sight was of her marching to the young man, tearing her mask free to expose the beady black eyes beneath. " _HAHAHAHA! DO IT AGAIN! AGAIN! **AGAIN!**_ "

* * *

 **(Later)**

"...I'm sorry."

It was always a bit of a trip, the sound of a place after the fight was done. It was even more so when one had ears like mine, especially in the dead of night.

And how could it not be? The clamor of weapons fire, white hot explosions, and screaming howls of both rage and pain in equal measure; a chaotic mess of frantic mindless activity shot through with spikes of unforgettable adrenaline. Compared to that song, the meager groans and sporadic single shots of mercy echoing in the distance for the defeated, the grunting cheers and small talk of the relieved victors reveling in the shattered moonlight, all of it almost could've been silent.

 _'Well, **almost** silent,'_ I corrected myself with an internal twinge that carried to my bandaged injuries, most expected to heal once my Aura had had time to properly replenish itself. In the meantime, I was stuck trying to keep my mind on the task at hand, and my simpering partner. Neither of which were preferable, but neither had waking with a splitting headache and the cleanup to look forward to.

But hey, I was willing to try anything if it made it easier to ignore the low groaning moan from a dry and no doubt bleeding throat, a subtle sound that nonetheless undercut the dusty air. And even that had been better than the shrill screams it had been beforehand, the kind that had knifed through my senses in a tangle of revulsion and guilty longing...

 _'Yeah, better to leave that off to the side.'_ Leave it, and focus on what must've been the hundredth apology since getting kicked onto the 'graveyard shift.' The ghoulish task of dealing with the mop up. The kind that never made it into the stories, especially not the smell...

"Geez, enough with the whining, already! I get it, alright!?" Shane flinched back at the growing irritation he could hear laden within the words, which, if anything, only pissed me off more readily. "Sorry! I mean... Ah, damn." I cuffed him on the side of the head lightly, though not too lightly, of course, working my expression into a more genuinely friendly grin. One I hoped he'd appreciate and take to heart. "Look, for the last time, I don't blame you or Marley. How many times do I have to say it before you finally shut up?"

"When I finally start believing it for myself, preferably," the reptile boy sulked, worrying at the new bruise across his scalp as he bent down over one of the slain Spearpoint soldiers, fleecing what was left of the man with a practiced air before rifling through the corpse's belongings. "We left ya hanging. Who knows what would've happened if Cerise hadn't been there." He grimaced, examining an ornately curved belt knife, or maybe just the neat little inscription on the hilt. "'Pack sticks together, and watches each other's backs.' That's what ya always say, right? What makes us different from... you know."

He didn't say what he meant. Didn't need to. I could see it in his eyes and in the way he looked across the strip at Marley and a small group that had congregated around her, the Leopard Faunus wrestling with one of the prisoners taken in the raid, and winning handily at that. The battered Spearpoint meatbag - a Faunus at that, going by the cat ears - shoved back from the fringes of their little arena by one of the onlookers, frantic in his efforts to get away. It should've mattered that he was like us. That his home was primarily a bunch of Faunus living under a rock with Humans as the minority, but the briefing had said it best.

Spearpoint didn't mesh with the vision; the overall cause that all White Fang lived, fought, and died for. The cause I and my new family did all of that and more for. And for that, they had to bleed. How much and for how long depended entirely on them.

"C'mon, Cooper, you know who my dad is. _How_ he is. I get it." We both winced, watching our Pack Mate punch her iron claw towards the sky, breaking the neck of her weeping toy in the same gesture with a snap like breaking branches, much to our comrades' roaring applause. I envied how easy it was for my friend, the way she bowed and soaked in the cheers; how at ease she seemed to be with all this. Cerise said it would get better overtime; that I'd get used to it. Gods, I hoped she was right.

Speaking of Cerise, the Spider lady herself made a point of marching into the throng to congratulate her personally, dragging her new 'toy' tumbling and tipping along with her by the length of steel wire wrapped securely about his neck, held like a leash in her iron grip. That Spearpoint Champion - 'Edward Laura' was his name, it seemed - had appeared quite impressive, outfitted in his gear, his armory of weapons at hand. Charlotte had taken that from him, along with a good chunk of flesh and dignity besides, stripped to the waist, his pale flesh the clear minority under a score of light cuts. None fatal, but I doubted he'd look the same as he had before the mask had come off. Or as 'pretty.'

The soldier had marked her, after all. It was only fair to return the favor, or so she claimed.

Still though, I liked hurting people - a lot - but _this?..._ This sort of thing sat uneasy with me. Even if it had my cheeks warming.

"Nah, Maxi. You really don't 'get it.'" He shook his lank-haired head wearily at the shared display, sliding the knife into his satchel, and moving onto the next cadaver. Probably for the best, too, seeing as I'd been maybe a second from planting a boot in his back. Might've been why he moved in the first place, come to think of it. Guy was almost an expert in my moods by now. Occupational hazard. "The Song... It ain't something you can just describe to someone, especially if they haven't 'heard' it for themselves." I followed along step for step, kicking at a discarded helmet as I went, trying to find something to distract me from what I already knew. The fact he'd been dancing around; that they all had. "Sorta be like describing one of your scribbles to a blind guy. Just doesn't work the way you want it to."

I understood that. Didn't stop me biting my lip though to subdue a curse.

Shane noticed the slip regardless, and only grew more flustered going by his scent. "N-not that I meant anything...!? Ah hell, even I don't know what I mean." I snorted, unable to help myself at the young man's discomfort. "Besides, you know how it is. Not like we got much of a choice in the matter, and Falkner's the one who decides who..."

"Would you take it back?" He glanced back at me, his slits widening at the dented helmet he saw floating between my hands, without touching my hands. Not that he should've been surprised after all this time, having seen what I could do, but it always rattled him even still. It was mean of me, but I was curious. "The Brew, I mean. If you could, would you?"

"Absolutely not." The reply was immediate, no hesitation, and the vehemence behind it was as shocking as the speed. Even Cooper himself looked stunned for a moment, pocketing a few straw gold coins with an awkward chuckle before hiding his face in his hands with a groan. "I wouldn't. Still... doesn't mean I can regret losing my grip on things. Shouldn't have happened. Hatchet buried."

"Hatchet buried..." I agreed reluctantly, allowing the helmet to drop with a far sharper clatter than I'd intended. Nothing a good punt of the offending piece of gear didn't fix. "At least until I get my first dose, anyway. Geez, you'd think that's why Falkner's being stingy. I mean, just imagine how I'll be if it's got a straight lace like you acting up!"

I gave him one last hearty slap across the back, trying to ignore the another budding headache; the ones that always seemed to come up after a mission, along with the feelings I'd rather stayed buried. A bit of inter-Pack tag conflict in the impromptu arena would do me some good, and Marley would be able to redeem herself for the slip up in her own way. Maybe she'd actually watch my back this time, or eat tarmac... Whatever came first.

"Guess we'll see eventually, huh?"

"For your sake, I hope not," he murmured through his grin, the damning words almost lost beneath the swell of cheers and roar of approaching Bullheads... _Almost..._

* * *

-END

* * *

 **-OC Voice Cast Introduced this Chapter-**

Shane Cooper - Quinton Flynn

Raye Marley - Sarah Williams

Edward Laura - Scott Menville

* * *

 _ **A/N: So 'Maxi the Blood Hound', not exactly the 'Maxine the Huntress' that we remember. New weapons, new motivations, and as you might have noticed a touch more unstable...just a tad. Sonia's doing, though parts of the old Maxine still exist, buried deep down. She's fighting it, that much you can count on, even if she doesn't know it herself.**_

 _ **Edward Laura the Knight and his home settlement of Spearpoint belongs to Wa7chface who graciously let me use his OC and throw his people against the Blood Hounds. Hopefully its not the last we hear of him, hopefully, Charlie likes her pets.**_

 _ **In other story related news, bit of a character change for one Lucas Violette who's eyes and Aura(or eye I suppose now) have gone from slate gray and teal to Violet. Was going through some revisions for AMBR:FR and thought it a good time to make the change. Lucas was originally from the old LMNH days, brought over from that story with a drastically changed backstory but for all intents and purposes the same character. Why I named a character Violette and didn't give him an ounce of violet overtones in the first place is a mystery. Way to go Mojo of yesteryear.**_

 _ **And Da-Awesom-One did point out Blue and red mix together to create purple. Ambrose's color is blue, and then you've got the Red Hand, you get purple hues. So when Lucas pops up in the future with a Violet colored eye that wasn't there before, this is why. - Mojo**_

* * *

 _ **(Next Chapter: The Black Queen's pawns strike from the shadows.)**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Edited as of (9/16/19)**

 **PB: Da-Awesom-One**

 _ **A/N: Hey all, just a heads up this is an attempt to recreate a chapter that got deleted by accident a while back during editing. A little look in at Team SAND led by Maxine's cousin Sonia and her little band of misfits under Cinder's command.**_

 _ **Tried to reproduce it as best I could from memory with a bit extra. I'll be moving it back to it's proper place within the next few days and should hopefully have the next chapter up soon.**_

 _ **Enjoy, and as always feel free to share your thoughts! - Mojo**_

* * *

BITTER SPRING

* * *

 _ **-Natalie Corbell-**_

 _"Know that_ _such an assignment will prove... subtle. Vale was something of a prelude, and we need to move forward and keep the pyre burning for the vision we all strive to achieve. As such, the flames need o be... stoked, somewhat."_

Those had been Sustrai's words, delivered haphazardly by wrote like a puppet at the behest of her still-injured mistress, who in turn, answered to a Black Queen far grander and far more terrifying. A Goddess in truth...

And those her words had been intended for simply nodded, and accepted their meaning eagerly.

Well... maybe not all so readily, but our ' _wonderful_ ' Leader had insisted. One didn't say otherwise when Sonia Bordeaux insisted... I'd learned that the hard way more than once.

 _"But given your individual talents... **SAND's** talents, I can think of none better suited to the tasks at hand. To face the dangers involved..."_

Realistically, I should have known then and there what I was in for - what my ' _team'_ and I were getting ourselves into - thinking back and remembering distinctly the relief written in Emerald's eyes as she realized she wouldn't be the one sent.

No, not her. This kind of work was for those ' _better suited_ ' after all. Why else would she talk us up?

It was perfect; a match made in the heavens. Utter...

* * *

 **"...godsdamned _lunacy_!"**

A curse spilled forth as I plodded and slipped my way awkwardly down the snow-caked hillside, almost lost to the howling glacial breeze whipping past barriers of stone and petrified bark, the panicked shouts and distant crackles of weapons fire, and, of course, the thudding drum beat hammering in my chest.

The heavily engraved silver-plated pistol, _Chance,_ was gripped tightly in shaking fingers.

 **"...Insane, asinine, absurd...! _Graagh!_ _Tysh ed ymm!..._ "**

An onslaught of whining mewls and bitter regrets thrown in a half-forgotten tongue were twisted into a sinister distorted growl by the modular grille affixed to the slab-like face mask I wore numbly.

All of them pointless, and none of it changing my situation one bit.

Amazing how things could all have sounded so simple in that farce of a briefing. _"...Intercept an Atlesian-Mantle Mobile Convoy of transport trucks, cause havoc and mayhem, make sure you're seen, and let the fancy get-ups do the rest."_

All I'd had to do was look suitably scary, jam their communications up tight, maybe fire a few shots in the air to make it looked like I'd contributed if the madwoman calling herself my Leader got curious... _Ha!_ Easy, right?

Thing is, no one had mentioned the heavily-armed escort of both flesh and blood Atlesian Troopers and clanking droids moving in support. A platoon's strength, at least, which was more than enough to make things a little chaotic during a raid. Easy to get separated from the real fighters that were supposed to be watching my back.

Now I was all alone, chased by members of perhaps the greatest single military force on the face Remnant, who, more likely than not, were really hacked off I'd, er... _hacked_ their fancy machines into uselessness. All of whom were very intent on seeing the threat ' _eliminated,_ ' as they'd put it.

 ** _"Tysh! Tysh_ Sonia _yht ran pmaatehk...!"_** I went on, dimly surprised at the instinctual switch back the tongue of my people. A part I'd long since left behind, making itself known in the oddest ways, along with plenty else I'd rather have stayed buried as I ignored the silvery Aura seeming to bleed from my limbs like grasping tendrils of wispy smoke... **"No, no, _no...!_ "**

Sonia. This was all her fault, the over-eager sociopathic...! _Damn it all!_

The frost-strewn wilderness of reaching limbs and protruding roots that made up my surroundings was reduced to little more than a ruddy smear of harsh colors and thin shadows through crimson eye lenses awash with gibbering feeds of tactical data I only half-registered.

Meanwhile, muscles more used to typing and the occasional stretch ached horrendously under the awkward burden of the unfamiliar, ill-fitting gear I'd been issued for the mission.

Well, unfamiliar to actually _wear,_ at least.

I'd know that profile from anywhere, having seen it enough times in my nightmares. Something which was only to be expected, given the Queen had at least two real-life sources to draw from when ensuring authenticity.

Matte, dark ceramic plates similar to those born by the Northern Kingdom's best, arrayed over the barely yielding mesh woven into a semi-formfitting suit that kept the cold out, and _supposedly_ would aid in concealing the wearer's own thermal imprint in the face of technical detection. Of course, all at the meager cost of trapping all that heat inwards...

Sweat dripped from my brow to sting my eyes, and fog up what little vision I'd had, boots slipping in the slush and rime, chest burning as lungs desperately sought muggy filtered air that simply wasn't coming...

 _Joel!? Leah!? Daddy!?_

The whole of the world was closing in. _Too close._ Just like in Bastion...! _TOO CLOSE...!_

No! No. Dad and Leah were both long gone. Nathaniel Corbell died to treachery in a flash of light and heat on a night better left forgotten. Leah... Leah was murdered by a creature that now claimed to be my teammate on a night quite the same.

And Joel...

 _"Over here! More tracks, this way! Fan out! Find the Trapper!"_

 _'Trapper?'_ For a moment, in my panic-stricken mind, I'd slipped, and a fresh wave of terror shot through me. Then I looked down at what I was wearing, feeling the mask hanging heavily on my face. ' _Oh yeah...'_

Fool Atlas into thinking it was the Red Hand and the rest of the Frontier attacking their shipments, implicate my home and my former comrades... What better disguise was there for something so bold?

Even so, the angry shouts and raised voices echoing from not so far behind snapped me out of my momentary lapse in sense, or at least rattled me enough to get me focused and properly moving again. A few of Aegis Academy's meditative litanies played on repeat in an attempt to curb the panic lacing through my awareness.

Ineffective for the most part, but it was something.

All things considered, I was actually somewhat impressed I made it down the incline without tripping and breaking my own neck. No use in doing my pursuer's work for them, after all.

Focus. I needed to _focus._ And above all I needed help...

 **"S-someone, please! Can... Can anyone hear me!? _Please!?_ "**

Slipping into cover behind a petrified tree spit halfway through by tendrils of creeping ice, I brought a quivering hand up to the comm-bead set in my ear, breathing a sigh of stark relief, and offering praise to Rowan, the gods, Salem, whoever or whatever it was out there, making sure it hadn't slipped out in the ensuing chaos of the chase.

Then I actually remembered to switch it to active a moment later with an irritated groan that was more squeak, clearing my throat, and allowing the meditation to ease the tightness in my chest.

I waited one moment with my thoughts, debating the pros and cons, then two with fingers holding _Chance_ tight to my thigh, then three before setting the channel, and calling on the one person I could feasibly trust to come to my aid out of all my teammates.

Sonia certainly might after a fashion, only to punish me later. And as for Eddy; _Duo..._ Memories of poor Leah and what had happened to her were resurfacing once more, setting my gorge... Yeah, I think I'd rather take the Atlesians...

Besides, this _was_ supposed to be my 'partner,' after all, and a swift glance to the tactical screen blinking at the bottom corner of my vision confirmed that he was indeed the closest to my position.

 **"Capaneus... Capaneus, respond,"** I tried tentatively, hating how weak and needy my voice was, knowing full well the former, _actual_ Trapper was hearing the full, unbridled terror without the mask's grille to harden the tone, and probably enjoying every sick minute of it, too.

But he wasn't answering. Why wasn't he...? What if...!? Was that a crunch of snow, a boot nearby!? Were the shouts closer!?... Gods, oh gods...!?

The silver Aura returned in bleeding motes of smoking embers, drifting from the armor's joints, along with the familiar gnawing sense of dread coming with it. Goosebumps prickled overheated skin, suddenly clammy with sweat... Were those fingers, reaching out for me...!?

 _'Not here... Not now!'_

 **"Capaneus, please pick up! I know you can hear me, damn it!"**

No, I couldn't let my anger show through, experience telling me that wouldn't work. _'Need to make him want to help, feel inclined...'_ Old logic-driven survival instincts kicked to the fore once again, setting my tone, and lending myself to being as damsel-ish as possible. It'd worked on Joel, after all, the big...

Uh-uh, don't go there... He was nice. Genuinely so...

 _'Oh, what I wouldn't give to have him watching my back again...'_

 **"Alex, _please,_ " **I repeated more firmly, feeling a shiver run down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. **"Alex, I need you. I need your help."**

 _"Ooh, there we go! Love it when you say my name, Corbell,"_ a haughty tone crackled across the line almost immediately, and left my teeth grinding, the young man's smile clearly evident in every word.

Odd, given I could make out the sounds of manic and sustained gunfire apparent over the line, meaning my teammate had to have been right in the thick of it.

Though from his relaxed tone... _"Just feels... **Whoa-ho-ho!...** I don't know, **right,** somehow. Don't you think so? Hold up, give me a sec. **C'mere you...!** "_

Blinking, I was just about to ask what could possibly be so distracting when a wet crackle squelched over the line, setting an acidic tang burning at the back of my throat. A shrill cry sounded a heartbeat afterward. It was so loud, I didn't need the radio to hear it, the sound easily carried by the chill air, and making me grip my gun all the tighter.

 _'By her blood, what could make a man scream like that!?'_

 **"C-Capaneus?"** I slumped back against the tree, heedless of the stinging chill. **"Come to my position, right away. I-I need...!"** Another crunch of snow, more voices closer now, forcing me to whisper the plea. **"I need backup! Bordeaux's too far away, and Duo's...!"**

 _"Look, Corbell, if your bony little behind hasn't noticed, I'm a little... **Grr-ha!...** A little caught up in something at the moment! Y'know, mission and all." _A few sharp breaths of grinning exhilaration, punctuated by the dry tinder crack I'd grown so accustomed to in my days handling such men and women with the Red Hand. _" **Phew!...** Hey, don't suppose you could hold out for maybe a few minutes? Maybe come to me? Feels like its been forever since I've gotten a decent workout. Would be a shame to have to break it off now."_

I couldn't... Capaneus was enjoying this? The maniac was actually having _fun_ with this...!? Oh gods, oh gods...!

My horrified silence must have registered somewhat, the joviality bleeding from his tone with a sigh. _"So, what's in it for me?"_

 **"What!?"** I squeaked indignantly, forgetting in my sudden anger to keep my voice down. **"What are you... Sonia told you to watch out for me, _Partner!_ " **Okay, forget sweet, needy cajoling. If I had to threaten the smug bastard to save my skin, I'd...! **"You wanna be the only one left to tell her you screwed up!? Might not like you so much after that!"**

 _"Probs not no, but seeing as you won't be around either in that little daydream, that's sounding more like your issue at the end of the day than_ _mine_."

I bit back a retort, knowing fully well it wouldn't do any good, yet feeling so angry I wanted to take _Chance_ and shove it right up his...!

...Calm down, Nat. Calm down.

 _" **Soooo** let's think here for a sec. That'd be yet **another** one you owe me, and I'd probably get a bruise or two in the attempt. Sounds painful. Might need some incentive..." _He... No, this scumbag couldn't be _serious...!_ He wanted me to beg!? _"...Of course, if a certain grateful damsel-in-distress was there to kiss 'em better after all was said and done, I might just..."_

With a snarl pressed through clenched teeth, I tore the bead out of my ear, taking a few blue streaked hairs with it, snapping the delicate connective wire in haste with a tiny crackle of Dust-born static that left me in mind of another one of my wayward protectors.

If only... No. No use regretting now...

 **" _By her blood!... *_** _HISS_ ** _*..._** _Why!?_ "

Finally having had quite enough of that pompous idiot, I tore the damnable mask free with a snapping release of pressure seals. I instantly regretted the rash decision as the chill bit into sensitive flesh, even while I gasped for breath like a woman deprived.

Tears streaming, and not all of it from the cold, I spared a hazy glance towards the red hand print emblazoned in stark relief upon the stoic visage in flaking paint. The mark I'd once tried to work for in some silly attempt to avenge my father, the symbol my friend - ...more than that - had worn when I'd had him avenge him for both of us.

"Joel... Leah, Dad..."

Those days felt like a lifetime ago, before Beacon and Vale. Before the Black Queen and these crazy missions. Before...

I wiped at my eyes, sniffling, a sob almost putting me forward with only the arm clutching that damnable mask to keep me upright. "W-what in Rowan's bloody name am I doing he...!? _Eek!"_

A scream tore from me as the bark, maybe a few centimeters from where my head had been a moment before, exploded in splintered chunks by a quick trio burst of impacts. Dust rounds ripped into calcified bark, shards knifing harmlessly across my fraying, silvery Aura, but doing more than enough to set me diving forward into the knee deep slush.

The mask slipped from trembling fingers, until it caught a stray round from the second burst, lost amidst a spray of ceramic shrapnel and glass. If that had been my head...

" _Over here! I found her! I found the Trapper! Converge on my position!_ "

" _Tysh!_ " A vehement curse left chapped lips, hands and legs scrambling into a crouching run for all I was worth towards the nearest copse of snow-capped brambles.

Well aware of the bullets passing hair's lengths overhead even if I couldn't see the one firing, I just counted myself thankful whoever it was wasn't having his best day at the range. Certain to keep my profile nice and low like I'd learned from the Hand despite the incessant burning in my calves, I tore through the underbrush, heedless of the grasping branches catching at my armor's multi-weave.

"Damn it, damn it, _damn it!_ Not today!" My throat constricted, noticing a thin sheen of silvery Aura wafting off my hand as I brought it away from my face. "Not now, not today!" I was going to make it out of this. No way was I dying out here in the cold, in the ass end of some frigid wasteland! "I can do this! _I can do this!_ "

Thing is, I might not have had what it took to make it as a Huntress of Aegis, fighting Soulless monsters for my families' honor and that of some long dead Queen of Bastion. I might not have been able to cut it as a Trapper, hunting down the White Fang, and perhaps winding up a prick like Capaneus or broken goods like Joel.

But I still was alive.

I was still a Frontierswoman, born in a place most the rest of the civilized world thought inimical to mankind... I'd managed to survive a night in bloodied Grimm infested wilds while braver stronger souls had bitten the dust. I'd learned to navigate those same forests, and survive the worst conditions without faltering... That, combined with whatever else the Fang, the Hand, the whole bleeding world could throw at me!

A bit of snow and such wasn't going to slow me down at all! Not one...!

An ice-coated offshoot whipped out of nowhere, catching me full in the face just in time to cut me down before I could put on airs. Stunned as I was and the world a blurry mess of white without my glasses, it didn't really register there wasn't any more solid ground underfoot until I was halfway down the ridge, and by that point, there was little else I could do but brace before I slammed headlong into the side of a fallen log.

Aura stole the worst of the impact, so while my bones didn't shatter and grind my insides to paste, it still felt as though I'd just taken a lead pipe across my shoulders.

Every inch of me ached something fierce. Slumping against the wood, I hissed through my teeth as I checked to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be. _Chance_ was still clutched in aching fingers, grasped so tight, I was startled I hadn't crushed the fine silver filigree. But I was conscious. And while I was conscious, I could still...

" _You're surrounded, Trapper! Nowhere to run!_ "

 _'Of course there wasn't. Why did I even bother?...'_ I wondered with a heady groan, working myself up into a kneeling crouch to risk a peek out over the lip of the log, and down at the base of the meager hillside. I felt what little blood I'd left in my face drain away, leaving naught but the chilling reality of how trapped I was.

A quartet of Atlesian soldiers on foot, sporting high-powered rifles aimed my way, their gleaming, blue-trimmed power armor shining in what little sunlight there was shining through the sparse wooded canopy, and ever present cloud cover.

An idling ground car chugged near-silently behind them with Dust-powered efficiency, its driver in the midst of clambering from the sloped seat, and reaching for the sword at his back, and add to the line of his fellows while his red-trimmed leader, the one speaking, cycled to life a heavy rotary turret mounted in the back.

Between the lot of them was more than enough firepower to reduce my impromptu cover, and me along with it, to wood shavings and nervous ribbons.

" _Surrender yourself peacefully to Atlesian custody, and you won't be harmed!_ "

Yeah, after the way the others ripped through their friends along with the mounting distaste for the Frontier, given this little conflict that'd sprung up? I didn't believe that for a second. Still, give myself up as an expendable hostage or prisoner, or get mowed down where I crouched shivering?... Or they could just be saying that as some excuse to get me out and into the open, line up an easier shot? Or maybe...?

A chugging whine sprang to life, and within a few rattling heartbeats, the section to my immediate right was chewed apart in moment's. Dirt, ice chips, and splinters filled the air in a cloud so thick, I had to cover my mouth to keep from inhaling anything sharp. The whole log creaked and groaned in some twisted parody of screaming, or maybe that was just me?

...No, definitely me.

My ears were just ringing too loudly for me to notice, my body curled up into a tight fetal ball of quivering terror, and smoking silvery light, bleeding from a dozen fast sealing cuts and bruises...

 _'...Maybe if I let loose, maybe Silva can...?'_

 _No!_ No, if I did that, there was no telling what could happen. It'd been so long, and without anyone here to manage it if it appeared... If my Semblance...

" _Consider that your warning shot, Trapper!_ " Trapper? What a joke. I was no Trapper. A Trapper could fight their way out of a situation like this. A Trapper could do _anything..._ " _There won't be another! Out! NOW!_ "

I was covered in dust. So much dust... I needed to think, to move, to do something. _Anything!_

I rested my forehead against _Chance's_ slide, letting the cool silver brush my skin while my free hand drifted to a clump of dislodged dirt cast up in the first volley, grabbing up a clod in a gloved palm, and letting the grains slip through my fingers. Joel used to do something like that, right before pulling off some impossible feat or another.

A custom from his grandfather, or something, supposed to center and focus. All I felt was dirt and mud...

"Hold on, I've got her! I've got you, Trapper!"

The sound of a rifle's racking slide snapped my head up, zeroing in immediately on the Atlesian soldier approaching with weapon raised. He must have flanked me without me realizing, or one of the troops from earlier who'd managed to work his way down the ridge same way I had. Then sense caught up with shock, and I realized it didn't really matter how. Only that he had...

"Stay still, don't move a... Gods, she's just a _kid!_ "

A moment's hesitation, a lowering of his weapon's barrel as he attempted to process what he apparently viewed as incredulous. A good man's momentary foibles, I leapt at the chance, weapon coming to bear with a practiced ease I'd thought long since forgotten, sighting home on the center mass of the target. I remembered that much, just like I'd remembered how to maintain my weapon despite not having fired it properly in months.

In that instant, the tables had turned, the good soldier's eyes no doubt widening behind his helmet's visor as I pulled the trigger, and... nothing. Just the * _click_ * of an active safety.

"O-oh...?" I mouthed stupidly.

Meanwhile, the soldier seemed to be getting over his hang ups over shooting me, mouth set in a razor thin line of something that might have been anger, or perhaps regret?

"Taking the...! _Hu-urk!?"_

An expression that doubtlessly shifted to surprise as a dull, bronze-colored circular _something_ rebounded off a tree trunk over head with a reverberating bell toll that I could feel thrumming in my chest, and struck him in the side of the head. His neck snapped to the side with a loud * _CRACK_ * before he toppled to the chewed-up ground like a marionette with his strings cut.

The object that had ended him spun off lazily back into the air in a languid arc, allowing me a brief glimpse of a complicated matrix of purple-hued Dust crystals worked into the design, and practically humming with potent energy. Energy that slowly burned away before falling perfectly into the deft hand of a well-muscled youth garbed in the same mock Trapper getup and gear as I was, still wearing that familiar mask.

And bearing it with far more confidence and right than I could've ever hope to emulate, taking to the added weight and encumbrance effortlessly. Which made sense, I supposed. He _was_ the real thing, after all.

The _real_ Trapper...

 **"Cutting it a bit close there, eh, Partner?"** Alexander Capaneus said jovially with a modulated chuckle that sounded filtered through the mask's grille, like something out of nightmares. **"Leaving the safety on, nice distraction. Gave me the perfect chance to try out that new trick I've been practicing. Pretty sweet, right?"** Without waiting for an answer, he kicked at the freshly-made corpse lightly, affixing the now softly glowing shield to a wrist brace clamped tight about his arm. **"Hmph, yeah, 'course it was. Glad to know it works. Finally got the rebound bit down, I think. Soldier-boy here didn't even know what hit him. Priceless!"**

"I... I, what...!?" I stammered, recoiling as the body flopped my way and doing my best not to look at the leaking dent his blow had made. "Alex?"

 **" _Ahhh,_ and there's my name again. In person, too. Ain't that just the sweetest?"** The Trapper graced me with a cursory up and down from behind that emotionless visor, head cocking in that strange way the Trappers all did when they made use of their keen senses. **"Almost makes up for losing the damn mask. You did realize your beacon's fixed on that, right? Made me have to track you down"** I just sat there dumbstruck with mouth agape, staring at him, earning a derisive sigh. **"Meh, guess I should just be thankful your skinny ass didn't get too far, though be honest, you didn't _actually_** **fall the whole way** **down that stupid hill. did yo... _Hey,_ now, hang on!"**

He brought his shield up faster then I could've ever reacted, perfectly poised to take a shot from my raised pistol if I'd bothered to pull the trigger this time. Thing is, I was probably shaking with so much a heady mix of frustration, fear, relief, and more fear that I'd likely have missed him even at this close a range. "You... You utter _scum!_ "

 **"Wow. And here I thought I just saved you? My bad. Must've had that handled."** He lowered his shield warily, but only by a few inches, much to my inner vindictive pleasure. **"Y'know, when I said ' _grateful damsel-in-distress,'_ I was sorta hoping for maybe a bit of gratitude. Like... Hey, what's with that silvery mess you got going on there...?"**

" _Gratitude!?_ " I growled, fighting to steady my aim, biting my lip as my Aura acted up again, and hating the fact Capaneus had pulled his cocky head out of his ass to notice. "First you expect me to beg for rescue, maybe throw myself at you like you aren't the most disgusting excuse for a man I've ever...!"

 **"Okay, we both know that's not at all true..."**

"Then when you finally do show up, it's with some silly half-baked trick!?" Strange, this guy could probably take me apart piece by piece if he felt so inclined, and yet I was talking to him like this. It was... invigorating, and horrifying... but entertaining all the same. "I could've been _killed!_ "

 **"Would've been killed, had I not bothered. Which, by the way, I'm starting to wish I _hadn't._ "** He bent over as though to pick up the fallen Atlesian's weapon, thinking better of it at the last moment before glancing over my head. **"Have yourself a bit of a fun little mess, too, don'tcha?"**

"Huh, what do...? Oh... Oh, _tysh ed!_ "

How!? How had I managed to forget about the others downhill? The ones with the arsenal primed and ready to see us into the ground!?

 **"Ooh, that Frontier-speak? Neat. Used to hear some of the others talking about how your boy-toy Ambrose would start spouting off that garbage on missions every so often. Weird."** I felt myself loosing an involuntary shriek, his spade-like hand suddenly pressing the heavy pistol back into my chest so hard, it drove the breath from my lungs, trapping both arms and the weapon in one go. That masked face and its red hand glowering down at me from above, easily a head taller despite being crouched, powerfully broad shoulders casting a shadow that swallowed me whole. **"What have I told you about reminding me of that white-haired punk, huh?"**

The cheerful facade was gone, every modulated word oozing threat now. Threat and anger, pure and simple.

"A-Alex, stop, this isn't... isn't the time! The Atlesians...!?" I struggled to form words, jaw tight, heart beating in my throat. "We need to...!"

 **"Yeah, 'We.'"** He pulled back, giving me space to breathe both literally and figuratively. **"Real funny, coward."** The insult shouldn't have stung; I'd heard far worse. But even so...

 _"Soldier!? Is the Trapper secured!?_ " The both of us flinched as the Leader's voice sounded from down below, the sounds of readying weapons apparent even to my mundane senses. " _Trooper!?_ "

 **"Gah... Seriously, how thick is this guy?"** Alex shook his head with a shrug, working his way up to lean over the side of the log drumming his fingers on the wood. Eyes no doubt at work behind his lenses, scanning the surroundings... **"Yeah boss, _niiiice_ and secure. Come and get us!" **He cried out cheerily, the effect utterly ruined by the mask. **"Oh right, and it's 'Trappers' now, y'hear!? Translation, you and your lot are fu...! _Oof!_ " **The Trapper leapt back with a demonic cackle, the top half of the log vanishing in a renewed spray of gunfire that had me burying my face in the dirt with arms over my head. **"Yeesh, don't think they liked that very much, did they!?"**

 _'...Really!? Of course not, you big, stupid idiot!'_ Of course, I said no such thing, remembering fully well how he'd handled me seconds before, and resolving not to see myself thrown into that situation again.

I needed to be smart. He was stronger, not smarter... Use that!

"We should flank them!" It was a silly idea, the first thing that came to mind, but it was something. I had to be useful, and if it gave me the chance to slip away while Alex threw himself into a grinder, then so be it. "Yeah, like they did us. You distract them while I...!?" The rotary cannon started up again, stealing what I had to say as more chunks of our rapidly-failing cover gave way, one round sailing dangerously centimeters past my ear, Alex's head twitching out of the way just in time.

 **"Do _what,_ exactly? Leave the safety on again?" **Capaneus commented over the cacophony as though his head hadn't almost been rendered into a fine mist. **" _Yeeeeah,_ no." **He looked towards our rapidly diminishing cover, almost eagerly, his plan obvious by the way he was rolling his shoulders. **"** **We do this my way. Apparently I'm supposed to be saving you, after all. _Again_."** He stressed the word, goosebumps building on my skin, despite the furnace heat of my gear. **"Still gonna be wanting a reward for all my hard work, by the by."**

"No, wait a second! You can't be serious...!?"

But he was, indeed, moving almost imperceptibly in a pre-arranged routine. A strange creaking note began to register on my senses, like wood bending and straining under pressure. The sound of various muscle groups tightening and loosening, bunching and stretching, prepping for intense activity.

A Trapper prepping for combat, checking every tool at his disposal, including himself...

 **"Look, do something useful and cover me, won't you? That's a good Corbell."** He clapped a meaty hand on my shoulder almost affectionately, then proceeding to shove me roughly aside straight into a snowbank, _Chance_ clattering to the ground uselessly. **" _Heh_ , gods, what am I _saying!?_ Just cower, look pretty, and let the professional deal with the scary Atlesians. Should make for a decent enough show."**

"Alex, wait! You can't just...!"

 **"** _ **Don't stop me now...**_ **"**

I paused halfway out of my freezing cushion, staring openly as the lunatic calling himself my partner bobbed in place on the balls of his feet. Idly humming a tune to himself with a waggling finger as the shooting died away abruptly.

Frantic calls for reload and the open question of whether or not the trooper's overkill had taken us out.

They'd learn the truth, and learn it the hard way... And here I was, scrambling into the perfect concealed vantage by which to observe.

 **" _..._** _ ** _Don't_ stop me now...!**_ **"**

Capaneus rolled his shoulders casually, and strode forward, scooping up the rifle of the man he killed, and leveraging it one armed as easily as if it weighed nothing at all, checking it with a nod of satisfaction. The action was complete with a final tilt of the head my way, before he was mounting the last vestiges of height the crumbling log could offer, staring down at the disbelieving soldiers with arms held out at his sides.

 **"...Cause I'm having a good time, _having a good time...!_ "**

His arm shot up lightning quick, gun barking in his hand, and a blue-trimmed Atlesian rifleman sent sprawling in a bloom of crimson and shattered body armor. His fellows reacted almost immediately - _almost_ \- and by that time, the Trapper was already charging headlong down the hill in weaving bounds. Rifle carelessly discarded, its traitorous duty done, in favor of the broad shield held out in front.

Bright, red-eye lenses glinted in the shadows, just barely visible around one of the half-circle cut outs in its frame, a smile evident in his voice now crying out over the return fire...

 **"I'm having such a good time,** _ **oooh!...**_ **I'm having a** **ball.** _ **.. Haha!"**_

Shadows sharpened, and the air itself vibrated in the wake of the overwhelming weight of firepower brought to bear by the Atlesians, more than enough bullets to reduce a Death Stalker to a vaguely threatening smear. Capaneus himself was all but lost amidst a thick fog of dirt clods, dust, and bright streaks of Dust-infused tracer fire tearing craters into the landscape.

Problem for them was the blasted singing fool bastard wasn't slowing. If anything, the shield bearer seemed a step ahead of the worst of the deadly hailstorm.

Never in no matter how long I lived - which of course, given the current situation, didn't really seem so long as it once had - did I ever think I'd really get used to the sight of a genuine, honest to the gods Trapper of the Second Generation at work.

A being from before the process became little more than factory assembly, where each young soul was the unique twisted byproduct of a sadistic practitioner's fumbling attempts to reproduce the rumored nigh on mythic qualities of souls such as the so-called _'Grimm Reaper'_ herself among a host of other heroes Violette had drawn influence from in his travels through the Kingdoms.

No limits on creativity or stifling of possibility, and half a decade to build their reputation...

Joel had been the same, both Briars, and all the others... Obvious differences at play in just the way they moved, and especially how they fought.

Lithe, delicate grace, and raw potent power laden within even their tiniest movements, coupled with frankly inhuman reflexes that I could scarcely believe even a true Huntsman or Huntress capable of, even some old Kingdom legend. And this was from one who'd grown up in a culture that lauded such abilities as something nigh on divine.

 _'And that damn confidence, too. The scariest part...'_

Not to say Alex came through entirely unscathed despite his freakish, low begotten gifts. Far from it, an inferno of sparks coating the bronze bulwark's juddering surface in bright actinic flashes, ricochets pinging off to dig deep furrows in the ground on either side, or otherwise score chunks from the bark and branches of surrounding trees.

A modulated grunt of pain and a flash of sparking Aura was building across his broad form, a momentary faltering in motion that drove the Trapper on one knee, braced against the Dust-tipped rain, and snarling under the turrets heavier caliber, Atlesians leaping upon their chance when it came in typical Northern fashion.

" _Concentrate fire! Finish him off! Atlas will prevail!_ "

And so they did, redoubling their efforts while my heart sank.

Not out of any real concern for the Trapper, mind you, it being his own damnable fault for charging in so recklessly. Problem was, it didn't take a mind like mine to figure out where the Atlesians would turn their guns next.

 _'Maybe if I can get off a shot, distract them...!?'_ I clambered for _Chance,_ switching off the safety this time, and struggling to aim without my glasses. A fruitless effort. And unnecessary, as I soon learned for myself. Atlas had imprisoned him, kept him down, once before.

Not again, it seemed...

 ** _"Graagh!?..._ D-don't stop me. _Can't_ stop me! You... _grr_... You clockwork Northern chaff... _Hah!_ "**

A monstrous half-roar, half-cackle tore itself free from the mask over the bell tolling and popping *cracks.* His visor hidden-gaze shone not red, but a brilliant golden bronze from the amount of Aura coating Capaneus' hunched form as he strode forth.

It wasn't much in the beginning, and if I hadn't been watching from the back, I might have missed it entirely. A sharp jerk of his shield arm into position at an angle, the subtle but powerful full bodily movement as a round from the turret struck home against the bulwark's ridged, spiral surface. Caught and subsequently rebounded in the span of a second with a keening wail that made my teeth rattle in my gums, and sent one of the Atlesians screaming away, his shoulder a bloody mess.

" _What the...!?_ " the Commander cried out, having no idea what on Remnant had happened to his fellow, but defaulting to the obvious conclusion that it had been the now-standing Trapper's fault. Thus, he defaulted to the standard fallback of all panicking souls. " _Keep firing! Bring him down!_ "

A shame, really. Against any other Trapper I knew - actually, most Trappers - that order might have born favorable result. As things stood...

 **"Don't stop me now, 'cause I'm having a good time... _Gah_... Damn right!"**

Capaneus was advancing again as a measured pace set to his humming baritone, step by inexorable step, much to the soldiers' mounting horror, one of those remaining even backing off a step.

Another huffing twitch at just the right moment as he spun, deflecting a shot meant for his legs, and the faltering Atlesian toppled to the ground minus the top left half of his skull. Another lull in deadly rain, another cackle from the Trapper as he advanced even faster now, despite a piece of his mask flying off with a rifle shot.

 **"Don't stop me now, y-yes, I'm having a good time...!"**

It almost hurt to watch, especially when the turret's steaming barrel fell silent with a sudden * _thunk_ * of a jammed feed, one it's wielder wasted precious seconds trying to fix. Seconds that saw a now positively glowing Capaneus - both literally with Aura-clad brilliance, and a clenched grin as his Semblance struggled to process the sheer energy amassed from every keening impact forced against him - among his prey at last.

Enough concentrated firepower to weather away a Death Stalker, distilled in my 'Partner's' every movement as muscle already built up by surgery practically hummed with force...

Three on one... A Beowolf thrown into a brawl with toddlers might have been more fair.

The final gun-toting Trooper on the ground admirably unloaded half clip into the face of the onrushing shield before Alexander was on him, closing the distance in moments, and battling the weapon aside with such force it flew apart, and shattered most of the poor soldier's finger bones with it.

At least I thought it might have from what I could hear with my palms to my ears, the screams cut mercifully short by a sharp kick that sent the man soaring back into a tree with a sickening _*CRUNCH,*_ left to slump lifeless and doubled over at its base.

And with that, there was two...

" **If you wanna have a good time, just give me a call... _Hah!_ "**

Capaneus spun about so fast, dirt and flakes of snow dust bloomed at his feet, the sharpened edge of his shield further bolstered by his Semblance slicing neatly through the falling blade of the would-be driver turned swordsman thinking to take him unawares. The sneak was barely able to bring up what small chunk remained of the weapon before a hand crushed his throat, and drove helmet and head into the ground at the Trapper's feet with a _*CRUNCH.*_

And then there was only one... I stood, clambering up over the log with far less grace than the Trapper had shown. It felt somehow proper... The soldier deserved a witness...

 ** _"Feh..._ I don't wanna stop at all..." **Alex hissed a final steaming refrain through the mask's grille with an air of finality, stepping over the twitching prone figure towards the ground car and its now-panicking occupant. The Trapper's shoulder rolling, shield raised... **"But you _will._ Sorry for that... Wait, on second thought...?" **He dashed forward head cocked as he stared down the soldier helm to mask, slamming the face of the shield flush with the vehicle's thrumming hood, the frame crumpling under the barely-restrained force. **"...That's a lie. Still, it was fun while it lasted."**

" _M-monster..._ " the red-trimmed Atlesian stammered weakly, an ammunition feed slipping from quaking hands as the Trapper drew in a breath, and raised his fist slowly, what energy still not yet expended in the prior attacks flooding the limb visibly in currents of Aura as it lashed forth and stuck the shimmering matrix headlong.

The force of what lay contained in the Trapper's body, what he'd absorbed and what he himself possessed, all of it was sent rippling outwards with a * _boom*_ that left my ears stinging, my rear on the ground, and shook every tree for several meters outwards in a sudden drizzle of falling icicles, pine, and flaming wreckage of which there was plenty.

From what I'd witnessed from my near-sighted vantage, it looked as though the Atlesian military vehicle had simply come apart where it sat. Rivets and pieces of frame folding, bending, then finally distending until the disruption reached the internal Dust core, setting off a chain reaction that consumed the car in an explosion blown backward, fires guttering to life amidst the trees, only to gutter out and be consumed seconds later by the harsh wind and chill.

Of the unfortunate occupant, there absolutely was no sign at all.

 **" _Laaaa... Da da da daah... Da da da haa... Whoo..._ "**

For his part, Capaneus staggered backwards, heaving heavy breaths from his exertions and fading adrenaline stimulants, slowly humming that ecstatic tune like some kind of dirge. Shield steaming at his side, the glow finally bled away, and revealed the full scope of tattered armor where bullets had grazed close enough to rip at the weave and perhaps the skin beneath, a hand rising to take hold of the mask.

The fight had been close, costly, but one wouldn't know it from the beaming smile showing clear on the thin face revealed as the mask came away with a hiss. Olive toned features that might have been handsome had I not known the man they belonged to, dark hair neatly cropped and shaved close on the sides at our leader's blushing insistence that he 'comport himself appropriately, and fix his appearance to match,' shining hazel eyes gazing out lustily at what he'd wrought.

Me, I just looked on in barely restrained, fidgeting trepidation, long used to such sights. Still, didn't mean I was quite inured to being there in person just yet.

"Capaneus, we should get moving before more...?"

"Oh yeah, ha, ha, _HA!"_ The Trapper's sudden exclamation made me jump, no point denying it. _Chance_ clutched loosely at my side while Alex congratulated himself in the only way he knew how, shameless gloating, and testosterone-fueled self promoting. "Did you see!? Did you see _that!?_ " He turned with a rolling arm, nodding his head back towards the devastated smoking trail he'd left in his wake, now more bullet scored war zone then nature. "Been ages since I've gotten to cut loose like that! Oh gods... Think I might actually owe _you_ for this one, Corbell! Gotta be my fifth... Nah, _fourth_ best moment right there! Hands down!"

"Alex, this isn't the time...!"

"And my name again. How sweet," he sighed melodramatically with a shrug, collapsing his shield and shooting me a sly wink. "Funny thing is, I know your game, Corbell. Know you're playing me like one of your flings... But gods, do ya do it so well."

One of my whats, now? This big stupid idiot wasn't seriously thinking...!? Wait a sec, did that body just...?

"So well, in fact, how 'bout you get over here, and put on that little wiggle you used to do whenever Ambrose was around? Maybe we can bump this moment up to third... Hmm? What do you think you're...?"

" _Alex!_ " I cried out, bringing _Chance_ up. One of the Atlesians - the first one he'd brought down with the rifle before starting his mad charge, had managed to work himself upright while his would-be killers were distracted. What's more, he'd managed to work up enough life to bring his own gun to bear, aimed squarely on the murder's back, such a broad target...

" _Ah...!_ " Alex turned with that same grace, but far less speed, his movements sluggish, dulled after such heavy application of his Semblance. He wouldn't even be able to dodge, let alone get his shield ready in time. The expression he wore as he realized it, bitter anger, frustration, fear, panic. It was all so very human, and he looked every inch the young man he actually was.

He wasn't fast enough, but I...

 _* **BANG!** *_

* * *

 _ **-Alexander Capaneus-**_

" _...The hell!?_ " I spat out in irritated surprise while scrambling back, almost tripping over my own two feet in my haste to distance myself from the active threat. Every Semblance wearied-muscle tensed in anticipation for... what, exactly? Pain? At the very least an impact worthy of the mild tinnitus assaulting my eardrums.

 _'..How did I screw up!? How did someone get behind me? **Me!?...** ' _My mind raced a mile a second, given to momentary panic as was expected, the brain's silly attempt to triangulate and deal with threat or danger. _'...Corbell figured it out. Corbell, the damned **coward!?** She saw it first! **Why!?** I don't...!?...'_

No, I understood just fine. I'd gotten cocky again, dropped my guard in the aftermath of one stupid victory. So much so, that I hadn't heard the sneak Atlesian's heart still beating, the manufactured crap issue weapon his friend had failing to penetrate properly. And I'd screwed up! _Me!_

By the gods, I hadn't felt this way since... since Vale. Since the Dead Wind decided to butt in on my moment of glory, and much of that whole situation went straight to hell...! There we go, the anger shifted in to overwhelm the fear. Red Hand might not have been good for much, but at least they taught me how to properly employ that most fiery of emotions properly.

How to focus my frustrations and anger on the goal ahead, towards discerning the situation. And what it told me was that I wasn't dead, which seemed... odd? Anger gave way to reason and experience, the revelation that there had been a shot, and I hadn't been hit. _One_ shot. The Atlas bastard from that split second glimpse had been a corpse on its last legs, barely able to aim the damned gun long enough to make a pull at the trigger.

From personal experience, dying threats didn't much care for restraint by that point. That high volume rifle should have been positively booming... but it hadn't.

It'd also sounded somewhat off, the shot sounding different, louder, and from the echo that came from behind... oh!? _Ooooh..._

 _'...That's annoying.'_

"Not a bad shot, Corbell."

Blinking, I registered the Atlesian flopped at my feet in a rapidly spreading puddle from the gaping hole in his chest cavity regardless of all that armor. I'd heard rumors that Frontier arms hit damn hard when they wanted to, but I still found myself appropriately impressed by the now-smoking hand cannon, and much less so with the shuddering girl it was attached to.

Natalie's big pink eyes were wide and watery, mouth agape in that typical pout as though stunned her weapon was capable of such action. From what I could hear, her heart was hammering in her chest fit to burst, teeth chattering, skin pale and clammy. Any second now she'd probably...

"...No shit? After everything you've done, this is _really_ the first time you've ever...?"

The former analyst doubled over onto her knees with a sobbing whine that answered my question for me, all that irritating self-righteous anger and barely-held composure fading as reality proved just a little too much for her. My cute little 'Partner' loosed the contents of her stomach as the murder weapon in question thudded to the snow at her side, her hands too busy, clutching at her ears. trying to keep herself together by closing out the world, and failing miserably.

 _'...Man, what a waste of a fine piece...'_ I shook my head, kicking at the bastard that would've had me dead to rights, more irritated at myself than anything else.

My screw up, _my_ mistake. Well, at least the Annoyance was alive and sobbing, rather than face down in the snow somewhere. _'Bordeaux'll be happy. Might even get a reward after all...'_ I shuddered, resolving to do anything to keep that crazy doll thrilled and level-headed.

Entertaining her fantasies, and keeping them going. Those were my best options. Months of experience had taught me that much, at least. When Sonia got mad, things got _bad._ Plus, it wasn't as though the Black Queen would hold back any more if I'd tried to scarper, or... or... Hang on a sec?

"N-no, no, _no_...!" Corbell was muttering to herself under her breath now. Low and incessant, pleading almost. "Not here! Not now! Please!... _Please,_ Silva...!" A pained grimace marred her thin features, Aura pulsing to sudden life with a silvery shimmer-light as though it were trying to maintain a defensive barrier.

Problem was, it seemed to be breaking down under some kind of strain while the young Huntress fought to stabilize it. Scattered motes of light drifting in wheeling contrails of smoky, argent radiance that drifted past me like fireflies, warm to the touch with a soft internal glow but malicious all at once. The lot of them bobbing and weaving about one another, gathering over top the slain soldier in a misshapen mass.

One that slowly began to take shape even as I watched, shield clamoring to life on my forearm before I'd even been aware I'd taken my stance. Witnessing the slow, gradual formation of gangling limbs... a pair of clawed hands and curved talons, the impression of silver plumage...

"What... Wh-what the hell, Natalie?" I breathed lightly, not even bothering to hide my stunned amazement at the sight of what was clearly a vaguely humanoid figure comprised entirely from shimmering Aura matter hunched in front of me.

The Creature's 'head' was vaguely avian in aspect. Corvid, perhaps, if lacking anything resembling eyes. Merely a twitching, beaked visage that clicked and clacked with chilling irregularity, and by the gods, just the sound of it. Of the rustling feather-like down making up its outline, muted somehow as though it weren't even present even to ears like mine.

But it was, that much was clear. It had weight on the crunching snow beneath it, as well as that flicker of unease nagging at my hind brain just from being near the thing, almost Grimm-like. A feeling that only grew when it stood up properly, the bastard thing towering over me, even with an obvious forward hunch to its looming stature.

"Yeesh, well, isn't this a surprise!? Some kind of Semblance, maybe?" I looked back at my partner, careful to keep my sense keen on the creature as I did so. Not at all liking the sense of unease building in my chest, or the way I was talking as though to distract from my own trepidation. "Heh, I mean I thought you had to be hiding _something,_ but _this?..._ Definitely wasn't expecting _this!_ Ugly bugger, isn't he?"

I waved a hand experimentally, the Apparition's head jerking sickeningly in response despite its lack of eyes. For an instant, I wanted to try punching it, only for something deeper to leave me hesitant. A twitching of claws sharp enough to match a Beowolf's, I'd wager.

Even that meager expression of indecision felt weak. Something I most definitely was _not_.

Not like those clockwork Atlesian jailers, or the young woman behind me, on her ass, scuttling backwards through the mud, weapon and sense apparently forgotten. A horrified gleam was in her eyes as she looked on at the thing her Aura had birthed, unwilling or unable to look away. Horrified, not scared, or nervous, or anxious. This was something beyond that.

"So... does it _do_ anything, or just...?"

"No, no, no, no, _no...!_ " She was at it again, shaking her head, tears wet and freezing on her cheeks. "I... I'm sorry, I didn't want... I-I didn't..."

"Corbell? Corbell, get a grip! C'mon, what's the matter with...!?"

 ** _"sTOp It... iSn't TiMe..."_**

I stiffened at the words rising from over my shoulder, spoken in a weirdly pitched facsimile of Natalie's own, if disjointed. As though out of sync with itself. Hazel eyes slowly turned back to regard the clicking creature, somehow instinctively aware that it was 'looking' right at me. That feeling akin to the few times I'd run into Virgil between assignments, the feeling of being watched on all sides, every movement carefully monitored, rose to the fore.

 _ **"...BIg StUPid IdIot..."**_

" _Diiiiid_ it _just...!? SHIT!"_ I narrowed my gaze, somewhat taken aback, and of course that's when it struck.

Even with a Trapper's reflexes, my shield arm proved barely able to rise in time to intercept the oncoming blow on a direct path for the side of my skull. A broad telegraphed swipe of its forearm, fast... Blindingly so. The Creature, this ' _Silva,'_ didn't even seem to have moved before it was practically right on top of me, closing the few feet between us by the time I could blink.

But not fast enough. Not for me! The claws would be bearing down on the surface of my shield, the surface taking the brunt of the attack while my Semblance, even drained as it was, leeched the force and allowed me a counter attack. By the gods, I'd had it mapped out in my mind, choreographed in the way any real fighter could attest to. Take the attack, curb the momentum, counterattack... Simple.

"Corbell! The hell is it...!? _Wha...!?"_

So when the limb and the claws dissolved into a fine mist, bypassing the glinting bronze bulwark, and coalescing less then a foot from my face, suffice it to say I was more than a bit startled. A Trapper's reflexes saved me once again, my head jerking back just in time to avoid the worst of the sweep, my Semblance feeding the power imbued in the attack even as it passed.

I didn't want to get hit by this thing directly, definitely not!

Retreating, I spun with the motion into a jump to gain some distance, skidding back through the now red-spattered snow. Wet warmth dribbling down my cheek to pool at my shoulder. Not quite a perfect escape, then. If anything, that smarted worse than the injury itself. My eyes were fixed on the beast, its gait no longer the swaying stagger of a drunk, but the stalking grace of a predator with the scent of blood now to fuel... it?

It was gone again, its form vanishing in a flurry of ice dust picked up by the wind.

" _Corbell!_ " The girl barely responded at her name, knees drawn up to her chest, face staring blankly at where Silva had once been. "Corbell, funny joke! _Haha!_ Now call it off!" I braced myself with shield out in a warding pattern, spinning on the spot, senses poised and yet hearing nothing. "Natalie, the hell are you doing!?"

"It's not me!" She cried back, and annoyingly enough I believed her too. "I can't stop her, I can't... I-it's not my fault!"

"Feh... _Useless!_ " I spat angrily, making her flinch back. Good, maybe it'd get that big brain of hers in gear... "Typical!"

"No, Joel's not here." Wonderful, now she's muttering about Ambrose. And my day just gets better and better. "She's looking! She's...! _Look out!_ "

 _ **"...MonStEeeeeeR...!"**_

No need for a warning. Not this time, Silva reappearing before me head on, clawed hand thrusting out like a blade. There'd be no dodging that, so I poured just about everything I had left into the shield, already braced for the blow.

Thankfully, this time the damnable Semblance didn't seem able to get around the shield this time, it's thrust smacking home into the shield, much to its shrill dismay, and the static crack of Aura on Aura.

Not so thankfully, the heft behind the jab carried me off the ground, back smashing headlong through the barren boughs of the tree directly behind me, before digging a deep crevasse in the drifts set along the ridge. Chest feeling like it had just taken another blow from that blonde bitch in Vale, my shield sparked with a deep furrow clawed in the surface of the metal, my armor rent in a dozen places, letting the cool chill of the air caress the raw skin beneath.

 _Now_ I was pissed.

" _NATALIE!"_ I roared, noticing the beast clambering in the trees almost silently, leering down at me with its head cocked to the side like some bird. Or like some Trapper...

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, _I'm sorry...!_ "

No help on that front then. Swell.

 _'Doesn't matter! Use your training! Work through the problem, find a solution...!'_

I reeled back, Silva descending from on high with all the ferocity of a hunting hawk, throwing everything and anything my way. A talon jabbed for my never-ceasing legs, a claw poised to tear at my throat, a beak pecking at my eyes. Faster and faster it moved while I slowed, muscles aching, pushed beyond even their preternatural limits by the mission's trials. Its body was fluid, apparently lacking joints of any kind, and seemingly phasing at will through my counter attacks, one moment striking from the front then from behind the next. So many angles to cover...

More wounds opened at the peripheries of my defense, faster then I could block, more than I could stem...

 _'Think, think, THINK!...'_ Snarling like an animal, I struck out wildly with more power then I'd meant too convey, and was surprised to find a brief moment of connection... It could be _touched._ And if it could be touched...! Aura. I needed to focus my Aura!

" _The head!_ " Natalie's voice rose over my beating heart, the grinding of metal, the splatter of sweat and copper on the snow. "Aim for the head!"

" _Took you long enough!_ " I snapped, sighting in on my target, Silva either picking up on the words, or tired of toying with me, attempting to bear me to the ground.

And I let it, with the added caveat of twisting the Semblance-born abomination about with my broad bulk, smothering it. If the beast wanted to tangle with a Trapper up close, well, more the fool it. Pinned, attempting to fade or break apart as it had before, but I held fast and jabbed an soul-fueled strike into its beak with a shrill * _crack,*_ delighting in the keening squawk of protest, and the hairline wisps of smoking argent bleeding from the 'flesh'.

 _ **"...nO TiMe... AmBrose..."**_ It was trapped, and gods did it know it. Just as I'd intended, shield raised overhead in both hands. _**"KILL... kIll... kiLL...!"**_

"Sorry, freak show. 'Fraid Ambrose... is spoken for!" I heaved out a laugh, managing a final churlish grin for the creature's benefit before bringing the circular cudgel down hard...

* * *

 _ **-Sonia Bordeaux-**_

 ** _...Anger_... _Defiance... Duty... Confusion..._ _Terror..._**

"A-Atlas...!" The man kneeling in the pink-tinged snow and muck, the brave soldier in service to his Kingdom; the Lieutenant responsible for this convoy moaned through clenched teeth. His helmet was discarded on the ground at his side, exposing a pale drawn face, eyes glazed in their sockets staring at something only he could see. "Atlas... Atlas will _... We_ will prevail! Against all... _hnngh_... all threats, be they man... _ah_... man or Grimm...!?"

"Of course, of course we will," I crooned softly in his ear, running an ungloved palm gently across his cheek as I stepped behind him. Feeling the beginnings of a smile pull at my lips as the stolid warrior leaned into the momentary contact, satisfaction at a obstacle crumbling. "We will meet any challenge, won't we? My sweet soldier... For dear Atlas..."

With that sentiment, I brought a finger about to his temple, reaching out with my Aura through touch. The effect was immediate, a stiffening of the muscles, a groaning whine pressed through closed lips.

A sharpened tendril of virulent-bruised blue gingerly probed against his own guttering spark. Against that invisible mental architecture of lingering resistance my charge still bore so close within his own soul.

Thoughts and intentions... Flashes of memory and sensation that weaved and whirled in our hearts. A story of sorts. For him, I focused on his duty, his pride, his patriotism... Cutting... Snipping... _Perfecting_ for my purposes. For the purposes of the Queen I served, executing her will.

... _The honor of meeting General Ironwood/ **His Lady** in person... Ranks of Remnant's finest arrayed in formation/ **In Her service, always for her**... Seeing an Atlas airship taking to the air for the first time/ **looking back to see his dearest on the Airstrip waving him on...** The heady aroma of the Officer's barracks/ **the scent of her intoxicating**... **She loved him. Atlas loved him...**_

Simplicity itself. A minor tweak of the narrative, the subject rushing to fill in the blanks for themselves... The soldier's Aura shifted and bent under my attentions, and not breaking... That was key.

My Semblance, my 'Gift' as Cinder and her Black Queen had described it, allowed me to read and perceive such things with clarity. And what's more, it allowed me to disrupt, to obfuscate perception, to bury troublesome memories, and edit a person's emotions like a writer with a pen.

Only that was far more difficult, as I'd come to learn these past months, not to mention potentially rather damaging and distressing to the subject. I'd only ever managed a sizable rewrite once before. And of course, it would be on the attempt I didn't care about...

Better the small changes made at crossroads, the kind that bled into actions later on like a web. Binding the myriad strands together, helping them set properly. The tiniest things. It was amazing the impact a scratch could make on a life.

Aura, that tangible expression of body and soul. The oh-so delicate link between the two. That a soul could prove so resilient to outside influence, yet still be so fragile from within.

So ironic, so... _**BreAkaBle...**_

My subject whined, nerves pulsing at the side of his neck as I swiftly withdrew the digit, and breathed in deeply, checking the improper impulse in its infancy before it could disrupt the work any further.

Bearing the sharpened thorns of pins and needles tearing through my veins, the knifing burn at the back of my skull, all of it stemming from the small crimson patch just visible on the back of my hand.

A hand now, bleeding from nails dug into the palms... Punishment for relenting; a misstep...

 ** _"Remember, dear. Charm, grace, confidence in all things,"_** my ailing mother's words echoed through my thoughts, with sound advice I cherished. _**"Prioritization is the key to success, distraction the cornerstone of failure."**_

I'd had my fun beforehand. I had to remember. I had to focus... My Aura flickered to life, sealing the wounds, yet leaving their mark. A potent reminder.

So caught up was I in the exhilaration of leading my Team against a deserving and worthy enemy, the heightened rush of crossing blades with the finest soldiers on Remnant and proving myself superior, **_CutTiNg... bReaKing... BleEdiNg..._** that I'd grown complacent.

Regardless, it was a small concern. SAND had acquitted itself well on the field as they had in the past. With the exception of Natalie running off, of course. Against my explicit instructions to the contrary.

I would have to **_DEaL wIth..._** No... _reprimand_ her once we were away from this blighted forest, though I couldn't blame her entirely. I was her Leader, after all. Her failings reflected on me, as did her efforts for continued success. She wasn't perfect, after all.

No one was. Not even Lady Cinder, broken and damaged by her experience atop the Vale CCT. Brought low by that wretch Carson, along with that Rose girl and her underhanded tactics.

But that didn't mean the pursuit of perfection was any less valid. Every step was a lesson, every challenge a benefit. Speaking of which...

"My... My Lady...!?"

I cocked my head, brushing a stubborn lock of hair from my face with my uninjured hand as the other was taken in the soldier's firm grip. His voice was different, no longer pained but laden with a potent blend of frustration and worry both. His grip desperate, so much so it actually ached though by no intentional fault of his own... Or perhaps it was? Some last lingering resentment.

 ** _...tHat He toucHes mE aT All! ThAt hE dares...!?_**

I closed my eyes, counting backwards from ten in the manner I'd been taught. The effort of tearing my grip from the sword-breaker hanging at my belt was almost too painful to consider. The _Song,_ that incessant crooning contained in my blood, demanding I draw the weapon and make use of it. It had been a gift from the Black Queen after all, a perfect replica of the weapon I'd forged years ago in Mural...

 _ **It WouLD be a sHaMe nOt To MakE UsE oF iT...**_

"You... You're injured!? Who's responsible...!?" The Lieutenant hesitated, obviously taking note of my discomfort. His grip relaxing, yet making no move to break the contact. Enjoying being so close to his Mistress, concerned for her well being, as he was supposed to be. As I'd intended... "What happened!? I will not stand for...!"

"I-I'm sure you won't, my dearest soldier." I moved swiftly to correct the misstep, using it instead to my advantage. The beginnings of tears burning at the corners of my vision, a tremor making itself apparent in my tone. "But... But I can't, the risk to you...!?" It was perhaps a touch over-dramatized, Mother always claimed I'd never make an actress despite Mistral's cultural influence, the arts beyond me. Such had always been... **_NO_**...I clamped down on the impulse to snarl, turning it into a sob that had my soldier drawing me even closer... "It's just... The Frontier, the Red Hand!?"

I hesitated, making the reluctant words seem an accidental slip of the tongue. And like the dogged warrior I'd made of him, the Atlesian reacted just as I'd expected he would. "Those... Those blasted savages!" He leapt to his feet, face alight with a fury born of a loved one harmed. Ready to charge off in my defense, but that's not what I needed of him... "That they would even dare! I'll make them pay! For you, for... For Atlas!"

"Yes, for Atlas. For _me_. We shall prevail," I reassured him, allowing him the honor of helping me to my feet. A tendril of Aura curled about his own, piercing and parsing, shifting his love and commitment for his Kingdom into something... onto someone far more deserving of such devotion. "And to do that, I need you to return to Atlas with the others. I need you to tell everyone you meet what happened here. How the dreadful Trappers butchered your men, how they hurt Atlas. Can you do this, my soldier?"

"Of course... But should I not be fighting for you, my Lady? By your side? Would I not be more useful?"

I quirked a lip, clamping down on my annoyance as the grip on my _Blissful Spring_ tightened... **_"Back straight, face forward, eyes set, with a smile on your face..."_**

"Yes, and I would want for nothing more, knowing I have such a champion at my side." I smiled warmly, adjusting my posture appropriately and punishing his unwitting stubbornness with a shake of my head. "But I don't require a champion now. I need a herald. Someone to bring word to my armies, to lead the call to arms against my enemies. I would trust the task to few others, and know that none will succeed as you can. Now, await further orders, and thank you. I know you won't fail me. Atlas will prevail."

"Atlas will prevail!" my soldier declared, clearly disappointed in having to leave but unwilling and further more unable to defy me, marching his way in perfect lock step towards the five others standing like statues in the clearing beyond.

Another success, an act delivered with practiced ease, given I'd already said much the same to the dozen or so other survivors of this little raid.

All of whom eager for the chance to please their beautiful 'Atlas,' all willing to trek back dauntlessly through the snow and Grimm to bring word of the Red Hand's cowardly attack, and speak out for retaliation.

Some of them had done just that before I'd perfected my pitch, marching off like things possessed in the vague direction of the Northern Kingdom several dozen kilometers distant through icy wastes and Grimm-infested territory. Given their training, some might even make it I expect. Though better to have the smarter, savvier souls remain and await rescue that would arrive as soon as her team was away.

 ** _...Curiosity... Affection... Fury... Care... Excitement..._**

I sensed the approach of another, his emotions so potent and visceral, it would've been impossible not to discern his presence...

"Hello, Eddy!" I called out happily, turning in place to face the broad figure melting from the depths of the brambles and branches like a shade. His body moved with a cat-like grace completely incongruous with his size and presence. Tapping the crumpled remains of an Atlas rifle against his shoulder piece, clearly having utilized the weapon as an impromptu club when it had run dry on ammunition.

 _'Such a bad shot, despite all the lessons...'_

One of those little eccentricities I enjoyed about the younger boy, my Partner by choice if not by intention. Edward Briar... or ' _Duo'_ as Alexander tended to call him when he thought I couldn't hear. A smart young man, a skilled Huntsman truly, but he could be so cruel, devising such a horrid nickname.

It's why I'd assigned him to watch over Natalie, her obviously needing the support, and for the possibility he might pick up something of her manner. Those at least proved to be somewhat adequate.

As for manners...

The young man waved, seemingly ignorant of the caked ash and smears of red showing clear against the backdrop of snow. The body armor he wore so similar to my own, yet where mine was almost untouched but for spots of dirt here and there, his proved a tattered mess that exposed broad swathes of reddened raw flesh to the elements.

If the nagging cold bothered him at all however, he gave no sign. His youthful features were drawn back in a wide grin, green eyes glinting through a curtain of dark matted curls rendered a thick rat's nest with clotted mess.

No telling when that had happened. From what I recalled, I'd last seen him in combat against the bulk of the forward defending escort, tearing his way through one of their vehicles with his bare hands, laughing all the while...

Of course, I'd been too wrapped up in my own fighting to notice, having just applied my patch. _Blissful Spring_ jabbed between armor seals or opening throats in colorful sprays that danced like raindrops... It was hard to remember specifics. They'd come later. I brushed at that lock of hair, not realizing I'd missed it again. I never did. Not until I'd look into a mirror and see it out of place.

"I trust you entertained yourself? You certainly look it." I put on a mock expression of distaste as I moved to greet my teammate, giggling a moment later to let him know I wasn't serious. A good thing, too. He'd believed me...

"Oh... Oh, yeah! Yep, you know me, Sonny. Gotta a bit messy back there." Even in that brief instant his face had fallen, his face flushed with embarrassment at the thought of displeasing me.

 **S** _ **uCh a sWeeT bOy.**_..

"Sorry I wasn't able to grab anymore of them. Looks like most of the ones left all ran off chasing Alex and Nat, and those that didn't... well." He motioned down at his attire, seeming a might bit put out. "I tried; I really did. Things just got, er... hazy towards the end."

"It's no trouble. We have more than enough to suit our needs, I think." I waved off the apology, shoving his shoulder affectionately. It was rather difficult, like pushing against a brick wall. The best part being he ran with it, over-exaggerating his reaction playfully... Just like at Beacon...

 _ **NO**_... No, never at Beacon.

"Speaking of which, you wouldn't happen to have seen where those two ran off to, would you? My equipment was damaged in the...?" I paused, noting the complete lack of either Trapper mask or commbead present in his ear. In fact, it looked as if his ear had almost come off, flesh re-knitting slowly even as I stared. "...Never mind! I'm certain they're playing around again. You know how Alexander can be."

He flirted, and occasionally I offered... A game between us. It was only fair to indulge myself. I mean... Well if _**SHE**_ could have a scurrilous, good-for-nothing bandit...

"Yeah... Yeah." Eddy shrugged, averting his gaze obviously. All that battle-driven tension bled away from his Aura, only to coalesce into something else. Briar's whole body was like a wound spring waiting to snap back. " _Soooo..._ we did good, right? We did what Cinder wanted us to do?"

"Disrupt trade, sow confusion, and point the blame squarely at the Red Hand and the Savages they've fallen in league with." I listed, turning my head towards the horizon and the billowing blooms of smoke curdling from what had once been a fully serviceable convoy. But now... "Yes, I do think we've accomplished what we set out to do here. I'd have thought that obvious?"

"Yep, just making sure! I mean, you're the boss, right?" I blinked, shoving at his stolid frame once more, startling him. For a moment, I thought I might have glimpsed some danger in that, fingers curling at the thought as a tingle of warmth worked its way down my spine. "Uh... Sonny?"

"That's 'Leader,' Eddy. I'm the Team Leader, not 'Boss,' remember," I corrected him, taking a moment to center myself, back straight... "But I know what you meant, and I'm glad you trust me enough to ask."

Be firm handed, but compassionate. Such was the proper way to run a team. Not like some battle-hungry, murderous, former criminal scum...

 _ **...Fear... Bitterness... Anxiety... Hope... Realism...**_

 _ **...Irritation... Confidence... Disdain... Pride... Lust...**_

Eddy seemed to have taken notice of the new arrivals as well, using those honed senses of his while my Semblance did much the same for me. The strength of their feelings proportionate to their Auratic signature, strong, unmistakable after months of familiarity.

"Glad of you to join us," I said to the bedraggled pair crunching through the snowy wilderness at our backs, my curiosity piqued at the extensive damage Alexander seemed to have sustained. "Trouble?"

"Oh, this?" The young man's body awash with grime and blood much the same as Briar's, yet much of it appeared to be his own, his posture worn and battered but intact as he waved it off with that grin I enjoyed so much. "Nah, just ran into a bit more than I'd bargained for. Still, nothing I couldn't handle with my partner watching my back. Huh, Nat?"

He clapped her on shoulder, the girl's knees close to buckling as she sunk a few inches into the muck and slush.

"Y-yeah!" Natalie nodded emphatically, almost seeming to cower in his shadow. Shooting furtive glances his way every few seconds, and wincing with his every twitch. "We're fine, just fine!" It almost ached to see her like this, my curse for being able to sympathize with my sole female teammate. I, too, had been weak once, before Lady Cinder and the Black Queen had shown me my strength, and taken me in.

There was malice, too, born of the _Song._ Natalie was on _my_ team. She should be _stronger..._

Something had happened, obviously, but I wasn't going to pry. If it was important, they would tell me, and it wasn't as though the truth wouldn't come out eventually, such being the case with close friends.

Yes, they were my team. My friends... _**fRienDs...**_

" _Excellent!_ " I clapped my hands together, moving close to embrace Alexander, feeling his bulk tremble at my touch, and missing the panicked expression he struggled to hide, or Natalie's shiver when I set a friendly hand upon her back. "So it seems we can count this mission accomplished, then! Splendid, all of you! A job well done!"

Eddy joined in my celebration, loosing a whooping call that echoed through the trees; a cry of victory. The pair at my sides adding their own cheers to our success, sharing a furtive glance I took note of with a passing interest.

But that could come later. We had won here. We had struck a blow for our cause in service to our Mistress and our Queen both, and had taken another step down the road towards an ideal future where we would be preeminent.

A world where liars like Ozpin, traitors like **_HER_** , and criminals out to take advantage of a corrupt system would bear the consequences.

A world where I would have the power I was promised after such sacrifice. The _Song_ whispered in my ear, exciting the heat within my veins...

In the face of such, a little effort and pain was nothing but obstacles along the way...

* * *

\- END

* * *

 **A/N: For those wondering, Natalie's semblance 'Silva' is based of the Black Ghosts from Ajin, can check it out on Netflix if that's your cup of tea. A semi-sentient guard dog sort of Semblance that works to protect her from all threats, though its definition of danger can be...loose.**

 **Those who remember Joel's first meeting with her might remember a former protector (Meat shield), savaged by claws...Ambrose assumed Grimm but...well...surprise.**

 **As for Sonia, hers let's her mess with emotions and perception, a sort of ''Rewrite". Where Maxine could affect the outer physical, she influences the inner mental landscape.**

 **At her least she can discern surface intentions and play with her foes mental state to dodge attacks, though given a** **bit of time and playing around, she can do things like transferring a soldiers love for his Home onto her, becoming Atlas in his eyes.**

 **Throw a bit of Butchers Brew into the mix and you get a pretty potent unstable threat.** ** _"Back straight, face forward, eyes set, with a smile on your face..."_ and all that.**

* * *

 _ **(Next Chapter:**_ _ **AMBR's Silent Defender continues ever onward, searching for her lost friends.**_ _ **)**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Edited as of (9/16/19)**

 **PB: Da-Awesom-One**

* * *

THOSE WITHOUT A HOME

* * *

 _ **-Reika Murasaki-**_

 _'Steady, now. **Breathe...** '_

I inhaled slowly, opening myself to the space - to the wider world - flowing around me, allowing myself to feel the slight pressure as my lungs expanded. To wring the tension from my limbs, tasting crisp air that carried the heady scent of old pine and morning dew. Wind brushed past me, gently caressing the long curtains of straight dark hair that hung past my shoulders, adding to nature's whisper with the clattering chime of bells and beads braided within.

All of it mixed together, allowing me to reach out ever further.

Of course, with my Semblance, I could see and experience much, _much_ farther, and in far greater detail. But such things could easily become a crutch. A weakness to my other senses...

 _'Breathe deeply. Don't just witness the world, but become a part of it entirely. Let it flow through you. Allow yourself to...!'_

"Alright now, be careful! There we go!... Here c-comes... _woah,_ another one!" a hastily called warning call split the air and lanced through my meditative reverie like a needle through a balloon, followed a moment later by the heavy *thunk* of steel hitting wood, and the squeal of straining rope and rushing air swiftly approaching. "Uh... Incoming, on your... uh, _left!_ On your left!"

The meditation cracked as I let loose a silent groan of briefest annoyance, pivoting on my back foot, clad in its thick, leather-worked boot with a dark purple shin guard wrapped on its front, with enough force to throw up a plume of scattered debris in my wake.

Another sharp intake of breath saw me opening determined eyes, tinged a subtle violet, at just the right moment to catch a short glimpse of the speeding broad side of a heavy log swinging down on straining lengths of woven cord.

The merest thought of standing against it was madness for someone my size, or any size, for the matter. Of course, most people didn't have _Iron Blossom's_ comforting pressure enclosing their fist, or the strength of spirit to gaze forward and face any danger without flinching. Those certainly helped a fair deal.

Bracing myself, foot slamming forward even as the other craved a hefty groove into the dirt, I stood firm. Waiting, judging the absolute last moment before it hit to lash outward with my gauntlet-clad fist, my eyes flashing a brilliant violet at the moment of impact, the air itself seeming to hum with latent energy as the trap's unstoppable momentum just... _stopped_ for a single peaceful moment.

And then, the Dust crystal facets inset along the knuckles blared with sudden blinding life, the log simply shattering in half as the force of my punch, already more than enough to halt the swing itself under my prodigious Aura, was redirected with twice the initial force.

If anything, 'shattered' was too gentle a word for what occurred. Most of what was left of the once tree-sized weight was now swinging behind me wildly in two separate pieces, the rest of it spread for at least a few dozen yards before me.

 _'Now if that had been a Grimm, or even a person...'_

I lowered my eyes to the now humming weapon affixed to my arm, vents shuddering open to release hissing blooms of screeching steam. Its manner of bleeding off the remaining energy cast off by the reactions of Dust and concussive force, readying itself for the next blow. _'A fearsome weapon, indeed...'_

But a necessary one, and an item of significance.

Of course, recharging as it was for the next few seconds, it was at the moment just fancy arm wear, meaning that I wouldn't be repeating that little maneuver when it came to dealing with the next few rapid * _thunks_.* The snap of even more rope lines going taut was immediately audible to my Aura-enhanced senses. As was the creaking groan of the great weights they bore down upon me.

 _'A challenge, then...'_ I couldn't help a smile tugging at the corners of my mouth, drawing in a sharp intake of breath and leaping aside just in time to narrowly dodge a swaying trunk, expelling the tension budding across my limbs on the exhale. _'Nothing I can't handle...'_

Nothing - _nothing_ \- could stop me as I weaved past swinging pendulums that could have halted an Ursa in its tracks, ducked sharpened spars of bark and branch by a hairs breadth at times, and, in many cases, flipping end over end above the oncoming weights, twisting to avoid fraying wires of vine and hemp that snapped to and fro.

Energy both natural and Auratic flowed through me like a stream - no... a mighty river - my focus guiding me to even greater heights. A focus that had only grown since...

 ** _"Ha! THERE we are..."_**

"Reika? _Reika!?_ " Someone calling out to me... But who...? Pino. He was here. He was... " _Watch out!_ " Panic touched his Aura, unease... I could feel it so clearly, just like...

 ** _"...I just KNEW you had something to say...!"_**

Another voice, not the kind, lilted accent of the Horo-Sha, but _his_ voice, echoed through my skull like a rock across a pond. Rippling outwards, drowning my friend's voice in its snarling glee, its sheer malice... Just like that night. That awful, awful night.

 _ **"Scream for me, worm! SCREEEAAAM!"**_

The merest presence of it, the way it curdled in my ears and stole the breath from my burning lungs, was almost enough to see me dashed against the side of another large branch. As it was, I was still spun round even by that glancing hit, Aura faltering as sick jeering filled my ears, overwhelming my senses.

 _'Can't breathe...'_ I lurched forward, gaping silently, unable to halt the trembling in my limbs no matter how hard I tried.

Laughter raining down on me from all sides, my face in the dirt, heat like I'd never known before searing and carving into the flesh of my back. I could smell cooked blood - _my_ blood - wafting from the brands the Faunus inflicted... Scars that, even now, burned across my back in the shape of words. Words I still shuddered to...

 _' **No!** ' _I grimaced, shutting out the offending sensations, and focusing instead on the jingling chime of the bells, audible only to me it seemed. The calm, clear notes rang throughout my senses, purging _him_ from my thoughts, and replacing it with focused resolve. My fist closed so tightly it ached. My whole body did...

It had been difficult to adjust at first all those weeks before. Learning how to move again, how to fight, how to maintain control... But I wouldn't submit. Not to this. I'd cast aside that mask. I would hide no longer! Not from life, and certainly not from _him!_

"Reika, on your...!" I knew where the next obstacle was coming from before the muffled words had even left his mouth, not that many were left now as it was. The Horo-Sha apprentice had long since ceased his work, but I'd rigged the traps too well, months of practice and years of similar work under Bill Carson's gang had worked itself against me now. Their momentum was too great, it was impossible for someone like him, untrained, unable to make use of the abundant Aura he possessed beyond what small lessons I'd attempted to pass on, to stop them.

Another oncoming weight reached its zenith, spinning and twisting wildly before the creak of the branches it hung from signaled its inexorable return.

Pino couldn't help me, but of course, I didn't need it. I was _strong!_ Stronger than some memory!

 _"...!"_ No more dodging, no more running! This time I stood my ground! Hands outstretched, shoulders hunched, legs braced...

The impact, when it happened, juddered every bone in my body. Joints popped as my fingers dug into the wood, dirt flew from furrows my boots carved into the ground, but I held on, enduring the agony in my back, using it instead. A long slow breath and exhale, a momentary flash of vibrant, violet-tinged energy in my eyes that saw me pushing back with the strength of both soul and body.

My Will became power, and that power pushed back, halting the once unstoppable weight in its tracks.

A small mail-clad fist fell then with the arcing surety of an executioner's ax, splitting the wall of wood down the horizontal middle before reaching out to snatch hold of a flailing robe line. Snarling soundlessly, I pulled it, and much of the overhanging branch it was attached to, free with a single yanking tug.

Vaguely, I thought I might have heard a yelping cry of surprise as I tensed, bringing my arm, and my new flail, around to smash aside others swinging about, cutting momentum and in many cases tearing tree trunks apart as the two forces met in an explosion of timber and shrapnel, all of it bouncing harmlessly from _Iron Blossom's_ panels and that of my new armor.

My old yukata had been torn and ruined after my crash landing weeks before, but the Horo-Sha had offered me a new one from their stores much to my surprise. This one a light purple, with a strawberry-colored sash in between, modified to fit my size of course.

That alone however was not enough, and neither was my Aura as I'd discovered to my peril.

Freshly-enameled, purple-hued plates of the same treated wood and leather my saviors used in their masks, arranged along my bare hand and forearm to compliment my gauntlet, tied off at my shoulders with a length red tinged cord, affixed to act as pair of shin and knee guards, and finally a cuirass worn over my undershirt, hidden beneath the folds of my new gear.

A visible change that had worried old Lux at first, using his people's crafts in battle, but they were protecting me after all. Another loophole of mine.

There I stood in my full, armored glory amidst the destruction. The moments passing by so slow, it might as well have been hours, for all I knew. Hours of peaceful quiet broken only by the rustling wind and jingling bells that already faded into the background once more... and I breathed out a weary sigh, releasing the pent up emotion, and regaining a small measure of poise.

 _''Don't just witness the world. Become a part of it entirely. Let it flow through you. Allow yourself to be guided. Surrender to the currents of the world.''_

Only through surrendering to that current could true focus be achieved. It was a difficult prospect for me to grasp, but that had been the advice taught to me over the course of hours spent sitting in a musty tent that smelled of damp herbs and unguents. Gleaned through written conversations with the elderly Sage of those that had taken me in, whom had saved my life after the White Fang and their monsters had stolen me away.

 _'Had stolen **us** away... Maxine...' _I closed my eyes, easing the tension in my clenched hand, refusing to let my shame - my _failure_ \- poison my progress. _'I have to keep moving forward. Always forward...'_

The past was in the past, and the future was still being written moment by moment. My friends were out there, moving about. I just had to be patient...

"Ah, amazing!" My eyes opened slowly at the sound of earnest applause, the clapping of hands sounding overhead from a soul burning with admiration. "I can hardly believe...!"

 _"You do understand, Pino..."_ I rattled off a few broad, if sharp hand signs in exasperation, being careful to keep it slow and visible to assist in the translation, and all the while keeping my eyes aimed squarely at my companion and... 'training partner,' I suppose, was the best word for it, _"...that it defeats the purpose of 'ambush training' when you tell me which direction the targets are coming from, yes?"_

The young man in question was currently straining to keep his balance atop a nearby branch with a small hatchet clutched in an untrained hand, and keeping an eye on me all at once, breathing out shallow yelps through the slits in the ornate, crimson face mask he wore as he clung to a series of tightly wound ropes and counterweights secured to the trunk beside him, most cut apart and dangling idly from smoking branches where the ropes had almost burned trough.

"I know that... _Uwah!_ " Pino tried his best to sit up straight and keep his balance, only to almost lose his perch entirely, just barely able to catch himself, and the tool, in time before they both could tumble to the ground, breathing out a sigh of relief. "But you _did_ frighten me for a moment there! It was... well..." He cocked his head in that overly expressive manner I'd come to learn all his people used, exaggerated to make up for a life and cultural identity behind a mask.

He knew something was wrong... and he knew I didn't wish to 'talk' about it. So he did what many wouldn't have and dropped it, if unwillingly, something I could wholly appreciate for the moment.

"N-never mind. You were incredible as... _Ah!_ " He fumbled again, this time having to hug the swaying branch with both arms and legs, holding it close like a sane man would any lifeline. "Always... _Phew._ Almost makes all the time it took setting those lines up worth it, huh? Almost." He rolled his shoulders with an audible * _pop_ * of vertebrae, scratching at wild dark hair, shining such a deep shade of crimson, it was almost black in the direct light of the sun piercing the canopy.

It was a bit cruel of me, but I couldn't help the soundless giggle of amusement at the young man's little show, eager for the distraction, wondering how someone so uncoordinated and nervous could make for such a skilled Healer. Though seeing as I was still standing to judge...

He was the only one willing to help me with this, my training, putting up with a lot, especially from his mentor, Lux. I shouldn't laugh... _much._ It was hard to resist, though, watching him fumble around in those heavy furs, stammering about. It made the effort he put in that much more endearing.

Especially after months of watching Joel and his loping, almost inhuman movements, or Ben, with hands made dexterous through years of thievery and trickery in equal measure. Even crass Maxine had her moments of grace, her art testament to such.

It was... _quaint._ And in my more prideful moments, I had to admit it felt nice to be admired so fondly. Especially after years of actively trying to avoid such attention, content to see them lavished on Ben.

 _"You don't need to."_ I went back to the topic up for debate, sighing at another shake of the head before miming speech awkwardly with the sort of ill familiarity of one unused to the act. It made it easier for some to read, though it felt hollow, lacking...

"Oh... _Oh,_ 'saying anything;' warning you. It's just... Well, I can't ever be sure you'll hear whatever it is coming, so..." He trailed off, looking somewhat abashed, or at least from what I could sense of his Aura he did. Sighing with a resigned shrug at my raised eyebrow and steady glare, he tugged at the fur-trimmed collar of his heavy robes with a free hand before resettling himself back into position near the other support lines, or those that were left, anyway. Something told me this next session wasn't going to take very long at all. "I'll... I'll just try and be quiet this time. Are you ready?"

Nodding, biting back the urge to remind him he still wasn't supposed to be saying anything at all and surprise me, I took my stance. Once more taking in a deep calming breath, opening myself to my surroundings, and...

* * *

"...And all I'm saying is that isn't it a good thing that I'm speaking up?" the young healer asked again for likely the fifth time as we marched along the banks of a winding river, re-adjusting the wicker basket he had slung over his shoulder, and hurrying to keep pace with me, my energy seemingly boundless. "It's practice for me too, in a way." He hesitated a moment, motioning for me to halt before quickly ducking down to examine a curious patch of small brambles peeking through the light frost just at the edge of the ice slick water, nodding to himself before taking out a pair of crude clippers. "It's bound to help somehow," he added, more to himself then to me.

Raising an eyebrow once more, I stood by watching once-fumbling hands deftly cut away at the brambles until he revealed a series of dark-hued blooms. Unable to hold back my curiosity, I at least waited until he'd deposited the blooms into a clay vial hanging at his belt before nudging him roughly in the shoulder, making him jump, and may have even had him tumbling into the stream if I didn't catch the waist of his robes and tug him back to safety.

 _"Oh? How so?"_ I signed slowly while he dusted himself off, repeating the motion until I was certain he'd caught everything. The long weeks had given my friend a basic understanding of my curious hand talk - better than most, if I was to be perfectly honest - but I still had to correct him at times lest my meaning be misconstrued, or he missed something. _"Lux has taught me your people cannot fight."_

Still, it was better than walking around with a chalkboard everywhere. Far easier, and less conspicuous... _'I do sometimes miss watching him flounder, though.'_

"Not precisely. More that we _won't_... Or _shouldn't_. It's complicated." He perked up some, though he was still not quite able to meet my bare gaze, even after all this time. "But think, if something were to happen, then I'd already be used to watching your back, yes?" He held a hand to his chest, nodding his masked head emphatically. "We of the Horo-Sha are forbidden from causing harm to another soul, both willfully and indirectly. It is our way, how we avoid conflict in our travels. But say we were caught by the beasts, the Grimm. With my Aura unlocked, I could maybe...!"

I stopped him then and there with a shove, though not the wicked jabs I used to hand out among my teammates to give 'voice' to my displeasure. The young healer was still too fragile for that. Not to say I didn't put a little bit extra into the interruption, hands slicing through the air while I glowered up at that mask.

 _"No, you **run!** Run with the others! **I** fight!"_ He wanted to argue, I could sense it in his soul's Aura, but he was also unable to properly meet my bare gaze, embarrassed. I was a bit ashamed with how I used that now, but I wanted him to be well aware, even as we resumed our march through the woods. _"Too dangerous, Pino! Promise you won't!"_

The Horo-Sha survived by avoiding the troubles of the wider world around them as much as they did through trading their eclectic wares, be it the threat of bandits, unruly settlements, or even the Creatures of Grimm.

That was their way, and I wouldn't judge it, even if I couldn't understand it.

Life in the Badlands was much the same when the time called for it. Though as a Huntress, even a mere student, it hadn't been mine for a long time. Thus, our compromise born over the time I'd traveled with them across the breadth of Sanus, one that saw me defending the rear of the camp's caravans from attack while they sought to escape. With my Semblance, it was a simple matter to fall back once I could sense they were clear, track them down, and resume our journey.

That didn't mean I was going to let someone risk their lives, even willingly. Not for me.

"It... It was just an idea," he mumbled, rubbing at where I'd shoved him tenderly. I'd have to apologize later. My muscle control was still lacking in some respects. "Leaving you alone to face the beasts, I care little for it. And I know Lux does as well, even if he won't admit to it. We're supposed to be helping you, but we..."

 _"But you are,"_ I signed, gently this time, letting a smile pull at the corners of my scarred lips even though I knew he had to be looking aside from the overt gesture, uncomfortable. _"You saved my life, and what's more, you have all sacrificed much to change your course."_

That much was certainly true a hundred times over. Against all reason, Pino and the band of travelling nomads he called kindred had 'heard' my story, sharing in my concerns, and had sworn themselves to aid me in whatever ways they could. Allowing me to live among them, comparing their old, generations-worn routes to my _Sense_ of my friends that had only grown stronger since first awakening, even when we'd come to Vale.

That had been the hardest part of this journey by far, the comparison of the vibrant Kingdom filled with life and friends left in ruins, only just managing to stand on its own, and barely at that.

And all this was seen from a distance, the border locked down fiercely by those unwilling to let us pass by order of the Council of Vale. They'd actually laughed when I'd tried to explain who I was, snickering at the masked group of'"miscreants and thieves,' as they put it. At least until they noticed me tear a boulder from the dirt and wave it about. Then they'd brought their weapons to bear.

I could've stayed. Perhaps I should've fought my case more fiercely. But Joel and Ben had moved on, and my former teachers were unavailable, too occupied with defending what was left. My Team Leader's Aura burned like a thunderstorm in the far east, while my best friend's shone like a muted beacon in the cold north. So I moved on, unwilling to sit idly, leaving messages I doubted had gotten farther than their hand to the trash.

 _"I can never repay you. Any of you."_

The kind 'words' didn't put him entirely at ease, but whatever arguments he would've produced fell silent as the first of the brightly-lit wheeled wagons came into view, the upbeat tones of quick-paced melodies, chiming bells, and easy laughter carrying over the wind. Sounds that lifted the heart and dispelled negativity, essential if one wished to live a life on a road ruled by monsters that fed on such feelings.

A far cry from the jauntiness so apparent in the music of my first adopted home, it nonetheless served its purpose. Figures, masked much the same as my companion, bustled about with the controlled chaos of any such gathering of souls.

Some labored at producing the hearty melodies as others danced and twisted about in flurries of bright silks and skirts, jingling bells hanging in bangles and sewn-throughout clothing. Young children ran around their elders' feet, and between the cramped maze of hanging clothes, lights, and wagons, chasing one another in their games.

To a cursory glimpse from my Semblance, it was an oasis of vibrant life in the ancient sea that was the forest all around, and, for the moment at least, it was home.

I led us onward into the camp proper, taking a moment to take hold of the ceramic half mask of styled purple enameled wood that hung about my neck, different from the one Pino and most of the camp wore in that it was simpler in design, and was only meant to cover the top half of my face. My hand moved to secure and tie off the simple web of straps that held it in place, throwing the world into a shade of subtler hues as the sheer dark cloth layered behind the slits that served as the visage's 'eyes' fell into place.

At first, I'd been uncomfortable with the idea of wearing another mask, especially after discarding the snarling visage I'd borne for so many years. My first childish attempt to show I wasn't afraid or ashamed. I'd been hiding, then. Hiding my fear from the Grimm, from others, from myself...

This wasn't like that. This was a 'face' I chose.

One that displayed the scars of the past proudly for all to see, but not one that defined me.

Of course, there was also the practical aspects it served. The Horo-Sha as a whole were a kind, generous people. Near to the point of naivety in some regards, but from an outsider's perspective, they could easily be seen as a little... odd.

Despite having traveled the lands of Remnant throughout all of their lives, visiting the disparate settlements of mankind from the Kingdoms themselves to their most far-flung settlements, most of the nomadic band rarely left the boundaries of their camp to venture among their civilization-bound cousins for any reason beyond the trading of wares, information, or the arrangement of travel overseas.

This had given birth, understandably so, to the cultural quirks inherent in such isolation.

Most of their number, from the young like Pino himself to many of the adults, even, preferred to wear masks that concealed their features from all but their closest family and friends. To show one's face was tantamount to an act of intimacy. While they hadn't demanded it, of course, suffice it to say I was more than happy wearing the mask, in public at least, if it meant putting others and their Auras at ease.

Many ceased their wistful activities and duties to greet our return, giving friendly nods and waves to Pino and, to my slight discomfort, respectful bows in my direction that I hastened to return in kind, trying to ignore the wary looks that they shot towards _Iron Blossom._

I wasn't used to standing out, much more at ease leaving such things to Ben or Joel. Thankfully, the children at least were less formal, if far more cunning, running over and all but demanding I join them, probably wanting to see me lift another wagon or two for their entertainment...

 _'Ah, the struggles of Aura..._ ' The smallest of their number tugged at my arms, and pleaded with mask-covered eyes and begging smiles.

A ploy that almost might've worked if Pino hadn't willingly sacrificed himself, motioning silently for me to flee as they dragged him off towards the gathering throng. I watched him spinning around and doing his best to let them outrun him, or at least I think he was letting them, grinning despite myself at the simplicity of it all.

"Back already? That certainly didn't take long."

I jumped with a soundless yelp, spinning on my heels and bringing my fist up defensively before the gnarled head of a wooden staff rapped the front of my mask gently, the bells hanging from it ringing in time with my own. The blow knocked sense back into my skull, the ache of it fading swiftly as my Aura sprang into action.

"I'm grateful, Young Miss." Lux, guide, healer, and sage among the Horo-Sha, smiled warmly throwing the deep set wrinkles carved across his bare, sun-kissed face into even greater relief, orange-tinged eyes shimmering as he glanced at his apprentice and ward tumbling face first into the much, much to his playmate's amusement. "Quite grateful, indeed."

It never failed to amaze me how such a man, stooped with age and jingling from bells and chimes affixed to his heavy furred robes and mantle, could always sneak up on me the way he did. With an Aura only slightly below Pino's in strength, it should've been easy for me to pick him out or at least sense his approach.

 _"Grateful?"_ I signed simply, doing my best to ease up and calm my nerves, shifting on my feet. _"Why?"_

"For denying the fool boy," the old Sage replied, his smile faltering just a tad at the words, his Aura taking on a concerned hue about it, muddying my perceptions. "He has seen you defeat the beasts, forgive me... the _Grimm._ A feat which, I am ashamed to say, is something rare for our people to see. It's made him think such things are assured, no doubt. He forgets our way is there for a reason."

 _"He only wished to help,"_ I gestured somewhat defensively, not exactly eager to get back on this topic with the Elder.

If he'd had his way, _Iron Blossom_ would no doubt still be locked away in the wagon he and his ward shared. Of course, after the first Grimm attack, when I'd been forced to beat down a Beowolf with my bare hands in order to save some of his flock, and earned a few new wounds to add the impressive number of those I already wore, the gauntlet's fate had no longer been in question.

It didn't mean he or the older Horo-Sha enjoyed seeing me wear it around openly, however, or how I had his Apprentice helping me train. _"He's not a fool."_

"He promotes a loophole in our traditions. That screams 'fool' to me," Lux said after a few moments of translation, shaking his head and bidding me to follow along in his wake, a summons I didn't dare disregard. "But as I said, I am grateful you are not encouraging him to endanger himself, however helpful he wishes to be." I bowed my head, the gesture enough of a signal in itself. "Now then, I'm not sure if the boy has told you, but we should be approaching a port settlement within the next few days or so at our current pace."

I nodded again respectfully, signalling my awareness of that fact. A small settlement a few weeks' travel from Vale proper, a place to spread information gleaned about Grimm movements and wider goings on in return for supplies and a berth aboard a vessel large enough to carry the whole of the encampment to far-flung Mistral, where the camp would travel for a time, starting the journey anew as winter faded, and spring began.

Early on, I'd wanted to ask why they didn't complete the cycle and go on to Atlas. Then I remembered that glaciers tended to be a poor mix with wagon wheels. Winters in Vale were quite harsh - harsher than I was used to, at any rate - but it seemed they were nothing compared to the frigid blizzards that raged in the lands of the far north.

"Your friends. You believe they lie in Mistral, yes?" Another nod, if less sure this time. Unlike the feats of accuracy and acumen I could usually accomplish with my _Sense,_ this notion of my teammate's locations was far more instinctual, and all the more miraculous for it. Flickers - outlines at best - allowed only the briefest sense of direction.

Ben was solidly north, which, given his position as an Atlesian Specialist - still wasn't sure how I felt about that revelation, even months later - it was easy to draw that he might be there now. Joel had been the closest to my position, residing in Vale, or more likely Patch, at least until vanishing on a journey of his own. The Huntsman had grown steadily further and further away, but remained for the most part due in the east, which, going by my somewhat inaccurate sense of distance, meant Anima, and by extension Mistral.

And Maxine... She was the trickiest to pin down, and not just because of the curious changes in her Aura that made it nigh-unrecognizable, but with how often it bounced around. For the most part, it would remain east, similar to Joel, but then the next it would be as far from him as she could be. Sometimes, it would be so far, I could barely even keep track, or so tantalizingly close, it was a struggle to remain with the Horo-Sha, and not charge off at a moment's notice in pursuit.

There had been moments like those. Too many, all thankfully talked down by the older man or my new friend.

"And you are certain you wish to do this?" I paused, glancing at the stooped man strangely, not having expected the question. "Young Miss, crossing Anima will prove an arduous journey. It is an entirely different world to what you may be accustomed to," Lux carried on as we reached the entrance to his tent, his head bowing in greeting to some of the other elders, men and women responsible for planning out the journey of 'Those Without a Home.' "We would welcome you along, of course. Despite our misgivings of the methods, we do appreciate your stalwart defense of our people."

I flashed an affirmative, not wanting them to believe I was at all ungrateful. They had their ways. Ways that, as an outsider, I could try my best to respect, but remain apart from.

His next words, however, did shake me a bit.

"But if you wished, we could send a delegation with you to aid in the journey back to Vale. Perhaps you would find better fortune without our presence. It might prove safer as well."

Perhaps I would, at that. Maybe all I needed to do was run back to Vale, find Professor Goodwitch, or maybe Ozpin, if I could. I hadn't sensed the enigmatic man before, but that wasn't an unbelievable surprise. He was Headmaster of fallen Beacon. Why wouldn't he be moving throughout the Kingdoms, seeking support? At least, that what I was hoping.

I could finally rest, perhaps stay with Yang Xiao Long and Ruby Rose, and allow those with more experience to carry the day, the responsibility...

I shook my head, smiling broadly as the Elders looked to one another and beckoned me to their counsel, sitting down and listening as the myriad concerns of those who supported and had walked alongside me all this way were listed and addressed: food concerns for the journey, the logistics of finding a ship large enough to carry the wagons once they were broken down, matters of payment... staring out from behind the eyes of my own mask at all their faces in turn, some wooden, some bare as Lux was.

Safety was something, but not at the cost of idling about. I was through waiting to be saved from my problems, sitting on the sidelines while depending on others to do what had to be done.

Just like old Bill had written, that old adage that guided me to this day.

 _"Never stop moving forward..."_

* * *

-END

* * *

 _ **A/N: So there's Reika and what she's been up to, training, regaining her strength and dealing with her demons. Her new gear is based a lot on samurai style armor, might as well keep up her theme on that front. Not the best material but it makes her feel secure.**_

 _ **Hope everything is going well for all reading and, as always, feel free to leave a comment or review with thoughts. They only make the story better. - Mojo**_

* * *

 **( _Next Chapter: Shore leave gone wild, in the way only a Carson could manage.)_**


	6. Chapter 6

**Edited as of (9/16/19)**

 **PB: Da-Awesom-One**

* * *

SHORE LEAVE

* * *

 _ **-Rosso Garrett-**_

"One night! Just _one night!_ I don't even...! _How!?_ "

The questions spilled from stammering lips one after the other and everywhere in between, each equal parts bewildered and exasperated as I tugged sharply at the steering wheel, sending the whole car lurching dangerously as we rounded a corner at rather inadvisable speeds.

Especially given the snow and sleet, much to one Jasper Fullmark's grumbling dismay as he was slammed bodily into the passenger-side window, and with such force, I might add, that I was surprised he didn't leave a crack.

I couldn't really give a bother at the moment. And besides, it served a point about the wisdom of wearing one's seat belt, Aura or not...

"You're supposed to be his bodyguard now, aren't you!? How could you lose track of him!?"

"What!? It's not my job to...!"

"Yes! That _was_ your job! Your _only_ job!"

I held up a waggling finger, and shoved it in his square-jawed face for emphasis, at least until I was forced to clamp it down on the wheel again with a shrill yelp and a sharp swerve to avoid an oncoming truck with its horns blaring. We were well and truly in the outskirts of the Kingdom now, away from the grand concert halls and glistening battlements of Atlas proper, moving along the roads less traveled by forces both lawful and mechanical.

Every settlement had them: its overlooked little holes in the wall, its less than reputable haunts. Growing up in a downtrodden place like Mantle had more than cemented that fact for me. Atlas was no different, but just a whole lot better at hiding them...

 _'...Which can be a real problem when your charge decides to get himself lost. Blast it, I should've seen the signs!...'_ It was always like this after a big assignment; the ones the Specialist couldn't talk himself out of.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I screwed up." The giant of a young man's noncommittal grunt earned him another face-to-face with the window, this time more or less intentionally on my part. I'd had more than enough practice since taking up my new posting to pick up a thing or two behind the wheel. That, and a particularly lovely teacher from a rather rough region of Remnant to show me how bandits treated road laws. "Gah, mother-fu...!" The former Trapper clutched at his nose and reared back with a muffled snarl, swearing it up and down like a Vacuoan sailor on holiday. Good news, though, at least he wasn't bleeding, which would be bad, seeing as the pressed suit he wore was a rental. "...ing son of...!? Slow down, you idiot! You trying to kill us!?"

"No, _I'm_ trying to stick to the stupid schedule I set!" I shot back, red-tinged grey eyes drifting to the flashing dot displayed on the Scroll affixed to the dashboard, one that was thankfully growing ever closer with each passing second. "You know, the one _you_ mucked up when you let our commanding officer just wander off on his own!? Which, I _repeat_ , was your one...!"

"Yeah, yeah ' _my one job._ ' I get it, I screwed up. Gods forbid, you ever get tired of repeating yourself, ' _Echo?_ '" Fullmark folded his broad arms with a wry grin as I flinched at the use of the nickname, unable to keep the irritated fluster from hitting my cheeks. "Broken record, much?"

Just stay calm. ' _Look at the positives,_ ' like Dad used to say. At least my passenger was actually taking a second to belt up, which at least showed he was learning, even if it was under threat of getting tossed about again.

"And besides, it's not like I let him dodge me. Carson's a slippery bastard, and you know how he gets. Took the first chance he saw, and made a break for it."

Sadly, I did know that. Benjamin Carson was a good man. An exemplary Specialist and commanding officer when caught at the right time, despite his young age. Unfortunately, he also had a few... bad habits. Ones that consequently made organizing and scheduling his life a far more taxing job than I'd initially would've thought upon taking the job.

Of course, that didn't matter. I had the duty and the responsibility, and I also owed it to the 'Bandit of Beacon' and 'Savior of Vale' to do my best to overcome the various difficulties one in his position faced... even if that meant overcoming the man, himself, on occasion.

 _'Been having to do that more and more lately...'_ I shook my head, not even bothering to hide it now. _'He's getting worse. This can't go on...'_

"Right, but I'm just surprised _you_ lost him," I sighed heavily, slowing down to a more manageable speed as I tried to compare my bearings to that on the maps, gazing around at many buildings' drab attempts at matching the same uniform white that the rest of the Kingdom bore proudly, the effect ruined somewhat by flaking patches and the contrasting neon signs. "It's only... Well, I mean, wasn't this sort of thing your, uh... 'occupation.' once upon a time?"

"Huh? What on Remnant gave you that idea?" he shot back, raising an eyebrow and flashing me a wide sardonic grin. "I'm a ' _Trapper,_ ' not a ' _Tracker._ ' Red Hand didn't exactly pay me to find the Fang myself. We had the data dregs and a twisted AI for that kind of grunt work." He shrugged, his smile vanishing slowly and shifting into more a pensive frown, hand cupping his chin. "...Actually, come to think of it, they didn't pay me at all, really. Cheap bastards. Sorta explains why I..."

"Oh, just be quiet will you!? We're almost there!" I snapped without thinking, my brain catching up a moment later with the revelation that this man could very likely tear my head from my shoulders with only his bare hands and minimal effort. My courage wavered under the glare he shot me, fingers that looked as if they could bend steel flexing dangerously. "Uh, well, uh... S-sorry, it's just... We have deadlines, appearances. I can't just let him..."

"Nah, nah, I get ya. Our favorite Specialist owes you big time, caring this much." Jasper eased off the tension gradually, smirking as he jabbed me in the shoulder with a blow that was probably supposed to be playful, but feeling as if he'd shifted every bone in the limb. "It's a good look, man. Can sorta see how you've got a certain Paladin-driver so intrigued."

It was a weak attempt to change the subject; a trick to set me off... I think. Yet even knowing that, the words still set my cheeks burning yet again, and what's worse, he knew it, too, the smug smirk growing wider as the Squad Leader picked idly at the metal collar encircling his neck. At times like these, it was difficult to compare the crass, if easily amused young man to the cruel and brutal warrior he always seemed to be while he 'worked.' The contrast had been more than a little jarring, at first, to get used to, to say the least.

"I don't know what you're talking about." The words spilled forth just a bit too quickly, my voice cracking. Just perfect.

"Oh-ho, I think you do. A certain bit of unauthorized fun in the ship's hanger after dark sound familiar? Maybe some alone time in a tight, steamy cockpit?... Ah damn, phrasing. Haha!" He chuckled to himself at the crude attempt at humor, my hands digging into the wheel as I tried my best to look casual, failing miserably. "Almost couldn't believe it when she brought that little tidbit up! Always thought the little uptight, 'by the book' Garrett was above such sordid things."

"I can be... Wha...?"

'Uptight?' I wasn't " _uptight._ " I just preferred to follow protocol. I mean, that was why the rules were there in the first place, weren't they?

"Cherry, er, I-I mean Lieutenant Rouge... She, em... She told you about that, did she?"

"Vividly. Woman sure knows how to spin a yarn, I'll give her that. Especially when she got to the bit about how you two..." He paused at my tiny exhale of a groan, looking me up and down with a puzzled expression crossing his face. "C'mon, no need to be so modest. It's a compliment! Hell, I was godsdamn proud of ya. Least until I heard you were off dodging her, anyway."

"I'm not ' _dodging_ ' her! It's just that we...!"

I shook my head wearily, doing my best to focus on the task at hand, our destination coming up on the right. ' _The Rabbit Hole._ ' A bustling little nightclub, all neon lights and gaudy paints to stand out through the snow despite being situated far away from the hustle and bustle of the main thoroughfare. Remote, but inviting.

The perfect hideout for someone who wanted to lay low, at least the first few times the former bandit had tried it.

He was smart, hands down, but the man had patterns if you knew where to look, or had hung around him as long as I had.

"Look, just drop it. I don't even know why she'd tell _you_ about it." Try not to think about ' _it_ ' too much. That would just leave me blushing, open for more abuse. "Never got the impression she cared much for you, or the rest of JADE, for that matter."

Few did, the Trappers - excuse me, _former_ Trappers - weren't exactly popular given their... 'tendencies.'

"Probably doesn't. Thing is, I'm probably the best gossip on the whole ship, barring Rouge herself, of course." He shrugged. "We talk, and she tends to put up with me long as I keep 'work' out of it."

"What on Remnant could you two possibly have to talk about?" I gaped, pulling up to the side of the building, the fresh coat of polish adorning the car drawing more than a few stares in this neighborhood. "I mean, what would you even have in common?"

"Plenty, actually. Seems both our parents worked for the Schnee's at one point or another. Better results for her, obviously." He didn't choose to elaborate further, and I didn't push. One of the first lessons I'd picked up while working with him and the rest of his team. "Throw in a healthy love of jazz, a shared dislike for paperwork, similar tastes in men, and soon enough, you've got plenty of juicy topics."

I nodded along while giving the street one last look over... before blinking and rounding on the man who merely noted my reaction with a dismissive shrug.

"So yeah, safe to say you've come up a few times, especially since Carson stuck me on this detail." He caught me staring again, raising an eyebrow at the heat tinging my cheeks. "She likes your nose. Personally, I think you squint a bit too much for my taste. Also not much muscle. I'd work on that."

"U-um...?"

"No problem. Just thought I might as well throw you a bone. She's still interested. Actually wanted me to try dropping hints, and get it through your thick skull." He mimed tossing something at my feet, looking suitably smug with himself. And he thought _I_ was thick!? "There, hints dropped. Nice and subtle. That's my good deed for the day done."

 _'...This is what he calls 'subtle?...''_

It had felt more like he'd taken his _Furioso_ and clocked me upside the head with it, but of course, what else could I expect?

That was just how the young man was. Brutally direct, always taking the path of most resistance. ' _Unabashedly blunt..._ ' pretty much summed Jasper Fullmark up in a nutshell. And even then, I'd probably expect him to shatter that nutshell to pieces at any moment, just for the hell of it.

"Thanks... I-I think?" I stammered back weakly, thoroughly nonplussed as we clambered out of the car, a glowering snarl from the former Trapper-turned-bodyguard enough to send those few more courageous souls still lingering about eyeing the vehicle running tails between their legs, in some cases literally. "I just don't understand. She's got her pick of the ship when it comes to... well, you know." I tapped my fingers together idly before forcing them down, shaking my head free of the memories. The oh-so pleasant memories.

 _'This wasn't the time for... for_ _ **that**_ _. I have a job to do, darn it...'_

"But yet, amazingly enough, she only seems to talk about you. Starting to get a bit annoying, actually. See you enough at work as it is to have to spend all my time playing couple's counsel in my free time." He clapped a hand on the roof, cricking his neck with the other as he sized the club up and down, eyes lingering on entries and exits with a practiced ease that still managed to astonish and terrify me in equal measure. Almost like he was born for this, or ' _made,_ ' I suppose would be the more apt terminology. "Now then, you're good cop, I'll be bad cop. We go in, grab the Boss, smooth things over with Madame Whats-Her-Name, and be on our merry way. Nice and easy for the anima... the _Faunus,_ I mean." He corrected himself quickly under my scrutiny, at least showing he sort of cared. Kind of...

"Why do you always get to be the bad... Oh. Oh, right." I moved around to join him, opening my mouth to argue, only to falter in the face of the obvious, the man cracking his knuckles eagerly.

 _'...Good cop, huh? Dad would be so proud...'_

"You can be bad when you forget to give a shit, Garrett. But you're not quite 'Bad Cop' bad. Not yet, anyway." My head drooped, my partner wrapping an arm around my shoulder condescendingly and leading us in through the front, past a hulking, blunt-faced Gorilla Faunus bouncer manning the door, who, for his part, moved right aside for us without a word of protest. "Besides, you're more the people person, and I'm the people pusher. It's our little dynamic. Ain't I right, Big Guy?" He called back at the bouncer, chuckling to himself. "Hehe, damn right I am."

I noticed with a flicker of unease how he was trying very hard not to stare at Jasper overlong, and kept as much distance as he could. He'd obliviously learned from the last time his predecessor had tried it, the large, face-shaped indent standing out stark in the plush velvet-lined hallway a good reminder.

"You'll get there, but in the meantime, how about you just leave intimidating to the professionals."

"But I... Ugh, fine. Let's just get this over with. We don't have long." Under that stark logic, I could only nod my head and resign myself to getting dragged along the hallway like a ragdoll towards a set of double doors, a motto proudly emblazoned above the threshold.

 _"Welcome Down the Rabbit Hole, Where We Cater To Every Man's Wild Side"_

Oh, right. This was one of _those_ places... Grand.

My partner let loose a low chuckle at the plaque, muttering something no doubt foul under his breath as we pushed our way into a bustling, dimly-lit lounge area, all spaced around to make the most of a wide stage awash with so many pulsing lights, it almost hurt to look directly at.

"Remember, check anywhere and everywhere." I motioned about unnecessarily, Jasper nodding and taking stock of the space almost on instinct as we both blinked the blurry flashes from our eyes. "No telling where he could've wound up in this mess. Look for anything that might... Hmm?"

What really caught my attention, however, were the two very attractive twins with rabbit ears dancing to the roar of the crowd, or probably their distinct lack of clothes. Yeah, definitely that last bit, though I had to wonder who the disheveled half-dressed figure in goggles they held practically sandwiched between them, singing along in a slurred, if surprisingly passable rendition to the jaunty beat the band off in the corner was belting out. A metallic hand was wrapped around one of the young lady's...

Oh.

"Sing it with me now, ladies! _You can train 'em, you can try to teach 'em right from wrong, but it's still gonna turn 'em oooooon! Aha_ , oh, it does, at that, don't it!?"

 _'...Oh... G_ _ods, **no...** '_

" _You can raise her up a lady, but there's one thing you just can't avooooooid...!_ " Benjamin Carson swayed on his weak leg tugging the two, uh... dancers, giggling along with him to the roar of the crowd as he hollered into the microphone. " _Ladies love country booooooys!_ Haha, I know y'all do! C'mon, now, no need to be feelin' shy!" Going by the female section of the audience, they apparently felt no such thing. The Specialist soaked in the plentiful applause with his usual flair as one of the bunnies whispered in his ear. "Oh... Ooh, ha, I know _you_ do, beautiful. Just checkin'! No, no, haven't forgotten ya either, oof... 'N-nuff 'o me to go 'round, I swear, ah-ha... Watch the leg now...!"

"Welp, found him... I think," Jasper groaned under his breath, massaging his temples as Carson began making a show out of hefting one around one of the twins, squealing and kicking playfully as she swung off his prosthetic in a matter a bit too forward to be considered truly innocent, though the former Bandit-turned-Officer was a bit too 'preoccupied' by her sister to notice the motions. "Hmm, great. Gotta wonder how long he's been... Ah hell, here we go again."

I was about to ask what he meant by that when, suddenly...

" _FINALLY! I WAS WONDERING WHEN ONE OF YOU MORONS WERE GONNA SHOW UP!_ "

We both winced visibly as a pointed shriek cut through the wall of music and the crowd, at least as far as we were concerned. The sight of a heavyset older woman sporting a pair of of bullish horns, dressed in clothes that wouldn't have looked out of place on a peacock, and with more paint on her broad face than a Bordeaux original, shoving her way through the crowd coming into view.

Well, more accurately she just marched and had her people do the shoving for her, but the end result was the same. Grumbling patrons were cowed by men in suits that were paid quite handsomely to look intimidating.

May have worked, too, if it weren't for the fact mine was scarier.

"Oh, uh... M-Madame Heart! A-a pleasure, as always," I stammered out quickly, bowing my head and gesturing for my partner to do the same, the Trapper affecting a sort of grimacing half-twitch that didn't quite seem all too healthy or natural on a human face. His storm grey gaze was coolly fixed on the proprietor's bouncers, most of which had their attentions firmly stuck on him as well, and for good reason. "Thank you so much again for contacting us when you did, and for your... discretion, especially given this..." I waved towards the stage, trying very hard to ignore the cheers from the feminine crowd as a sodden shirt hit the stage.

"Well, if Carson's looking for a backup career..." Jasper grunted with a note of amazed amusement. "...Didn't even know his arm could do that. Gods, doesn't that hurt?"

Ignore him, _ignore him._ Focus, _FOCUS!_

"Yes, yes, I'm doing you Troopers a big favor, aren't I? Helping provide some comfort for the brave boys in our armed forces." Well, hard to miss the sarcasm there, wasn't it? "Now how about you do me one better, and get your friend outta here!" The Madame shoved a pudgy quivering finger towards the swaying man on the stage, a growl pregnant on her pinched lips. "And while you're at it, make sure wherever base it is you're posted on invests in a damned padlock and a leash! Can't keep him nailed down anywhere. Every time he sneaks in here, he distracts the girls while they're supposed to be workin'!"

Okay, that was certainly true. We could stand to work on that.

"...starts fights with my people! Why, just the other day...!"

Not so believable. The young man could be a bit crass, but he usually had a bit more tact when it came to such matters. Guessing that was just embellishment... I hoped.

"...And not to mention he keeps pulling stunts like the one he did with poor Daffodil! It took _days_ to wipe up those stains!"

 _O-kay..._ You know what? Think I'd really rather not know about that one.

"And we're so _very_ sorry for any inconvenience he might've caused you," I replied, keeping my voice level but also trying to head her off early. The Madame could be a bit of a talker by experience, especially when that involved talking down, and keeping such people off balance. Specialist Carson had taught me that. He'd also taught me that everyone was entitled to a bit of downtime. I just wished he could maybe stand to be a little less belligerent with his own. "As I said before, we appreciate your discretion, and you can be assured that damages to persons or property - those he _did_ have had a hand in, anyway - will, of course, be compensated with the appropriate..."

"Compensated?"

Predictably, talk of money worked immediately to improve the old bovine lady's attitude significantly, not even deigning, or purposefully ignoring, my little interruption and the low grumbling murmurs of her people. Unfortunately, going by the chill running down my spine and the new burgeoning Cheshire grin tugging at her lips, I doubted it meant anything good for me.

"So, Lovely..." 'Lovely' now, was it? Guess it beats 'Useless Tin Man,' or 'Babysitter.' Now if we could just work on her tone... "That one. He's supposed to be someone important, then, yeah?" I stiffened at the curiosity, and what's more, the eagerness in her tone, biting my lip for but a moment before composing myself. I've had to do that a lot lately, too. "Must be. More than some random soldier boy, at any rate, if you both are so keen on keeping him under the radar. Arm like that, reminds me a lot of a certain someone I _may_ have seen in the papers once upon a time. Now, what was his name again?" She tapped a long nailed finger against her puffy cheek thoughtfully. "Really, I should know. I mean, he's been saying it all night. Car-something... Right on the tip of my tongue..."

I couldn't quite suppress a groan, fingers going to my forehead as the Faunus woman smirked, evidently thinking she must've had me dead to rights with her little threat.

Honestly, I was just exasperated that it always seemed to end like this. The Specialist would find a new favorite hiding spot for his little... ' _excursions_ ,' if you could call them that, during which his name would inevitably slip free from somewhere, and soon enough people would line up to take advantage.

A shame for the Madame, really. She'd put up with it longer than many others in her position. And Carson really did seem to enjoy this venue, which was rare by his exacting standards. A real shame.

 _'Ah well, he reaps what he sows, I suppose...'_ I sighed, not exactly comfortable with how used I'd become to judging the worst in people.

Those lessons I could do well without, thank you very much!

"As I said, Madame," I spoke up, overriding the woman's continued guessing game, much to her annoyance, feline eyes flashing in the dim light as they regarded me like a ripe morsel. "We are more than willing to compensate you for the damages, and your discretion in this matter would be most appreciated," I finished, meeting her gaze head on with calm indifference, even tacking on a little grin I'd learned from Cherry that embodied classic Badlander charm.

Going by the way her goons cracked their knuckles, it seemed I couldn't quite pull it off with the same flair that the russet-haired young Paladin pilot or our Blonde Specialist Tactician could. Understandable, really, though it still smarted.

"Aha! I _knew_ it!" Heart's face flushed, but maintained the overarching sneer that did nothing for what looks she still retained. "Blonde hair, one arm, with you lot always snooping about shadowing his every step! Who else could it be but the famous...!?"

The name she'd been about to utter was lost in an ironically pig-like squeal of terror. Every head throughout the club turned towards the main stage at the sound of splintering wood and yelps of pain overridden by screeching, synchronized wails of terror from the twins as the music squealed to a grinding halt.

It was pretty easy to pick out the cause of the disruption, Jasper standing up on stage in the spotlight as blatant as you please with a thrashing Benjamin Carson kicking and squirming over one massive shoulder, hands beating ineffectually against the Trapper's back. Neither were they the only ones currently occupying the stage aside from the mortified dancers clutching at each other.

A quartet of goons in the dark suits and brightly-colored ties of Madame Heart's staff, who had likely tried to detain him, and had, of course, suffered the inevitable results. The lot of them were strewn across or through the floor, bruised and groaning while their attacker looked to have barely broken a sweat. All with one arm, from the looks of the Specialist's squirming. As if reading my mind, the Former Trapper flashed a broad grin I knew was meant for me, smoothing back his fiery hair before turning his attention to our now sweating host.

"Trust me, ya old cow..." Fullmark said lazily after tapping the microphone and finding it satisfactory, face splitting into an expression that would have no doubt given even a Grimm pause. He certainly managed just fine with the subdued and terrified crowd. "...I'd shut up and take the handout if I were you. Better off for everyone that way."

 _'Oh gods, this is going to be so much paperwork...'_

* * *

It certainly did the trick, though, the Madame letting us walk out past the stunned crowd with nary a peep, and only a few harsh glares that could've likely killed a Beowolf if weaponized.

"You didn't have to go that far, you know," I said once I was quite certain we were out of earshot of anyone who might think it a good idea to listen in, rubbing the back of my dark hair as I did. "I had the situation well in hand."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, _obviously._ You know I could hear everything, right?"

"You always do this! Every time!"

"Yesh... Y-you daftin', blowhardy..." Carson mumbled unintelligibly, something we were both used to ignoring by this point. "Psy-Psycho... Stop singin'! Sounds like yer' stranglin' a... Ooh, pretty stars..." Probably the lights. They were nice to look at, I supposed.

"Because it always works. 'Bad Cop,' remember?" JADE's leader bounced on the balls of his feet, the motion jostling the helpless Specialist as his shoulder cannoned into his unprotected ribs. "Besides, you get to look good cleaning up the mess. Everybody wins."

Except the ones that have to fix the floor and pull out the goons, and not to mention the goons themselves and their raving employer... One I now had to bribe again. Goodness, when did my life get so complicated?

"So what do we do about him?" He hefted his shoulder, Carson grunting as he mumbled along under his breath. Something about fireworks and a rooftop? "Can't exactly haul him over there looking like this, can we?"

I stopped in place, taking a long deep breath before looking off the side towards a nearby alley, then back at the Specialist with a slight vindictive smirk. "You know what?... I've got an idea."

Jasper followed my gaze, turning back to stare at me a long moment before sighing and shaking his head with a sly grin. "He doesn't deserve you."

"Probably not, but I'm what he's got. Now, are you gonna help me, or are you just gonna stand there gawking?"

"Whatever you say, Echo."

"Whatever, I... Can you _please_ not call me that?"

"Haha, _nope!_ "

* * *

 ** _-Benjamin Carson-_**

"One..."

What the hell were those idiots shouting about now?... Wasn't it enough they'd come to ruin my... my fun?

" _Two!_ "

Obviously not.

" _THREE!"_

I was floating, tumbling weightlessly through a host of blurring swaying colors, and vertigo with my stomach lurching. Nauseous, but free at last from the indignity of being bundled around like a sack over one shoulder by the Brute, as he was so aptly named. Big spoilsport, interrupting just when things were getting good. Just when I'd been able to forget... Never mind that. It wasn't important.

Now was my chance. The chance to fly away into the pretty sunset with my strange new ability. Soar like a glorious, golden-green bird to freedo...

I landed then. 'Crashed,' more like. _Hard_.

My world suddenly became a solid, slushy mass of ice and soiled white. Bone-chilling cold shot along the length of every nerve ending, locking my muscles, stealing the air from my lungs. Adrenaline and Aura kicked into punishing overdrive, burning away what vestiges of the drink still clogging my system in mere moments. After that, well... I was just trapped. Trapped on all sides by a suffocating lack of light, for which there was no escape. I yelled, muffled by a mouthful of foul, salt-tinged sleet.

"So this was really a trick your mom used to pull?" Jasper's questioning tone carried over my struggles, sounding genuinely amused and even somewhat impressed. "Do I even wanna know?"

"Garnet Garrett wasn't one to suffer drunkenness in the house," Echo declared with a cough, sounding, if anything, a little bashful, the traitor. "Snowbank showers. Old Mantle tradition. Always works like a charm."

"Momma Garrett sounds like a smart woman."

"Yeah, yeah she was..." he trailed off a bit awkwardly with a pause before letting out a somewhat concerned grunt. "Uh... He's getting air, right?"

No... No I wasn't. Glad at least one of them finally deigned to notice. On that note...

 _"Wha...! Uwaaaagh!"_

I burst like a Creep from the snowdrift in a flailing floundering mess of ungraceful limbs, cursing provenance that would've left sailors blushing, and somersaulting end over end backwards in my desperate attempt to flee, only adding to my agony as my knee flared up worse than ever. The endless drinks from before had helped serve to take the edge off, but now that it was gone with a sudden rush of soulful energy... all I felt was glass, digging into the meat of the joint.

"Gah- _pfft_! G-g-g-godsdamn it, wha!?... Wh-wh-wh-what the b-b-b-bleedin' hell was... was... huh!?" I looked up at the pair of faces standing above me, Fullmark with his usual shit-eating grin, and Echo biting his lip nervously, as if my torment hadn't been his idea.

 _'Yeah, I wasn't out of it enough to forget **that!...** ' _I grimaced, the edge fading along with my heart rate, replaced by a steady beating thrum that overshadowed thought and put pain in its place.

"Feeling better?" the giant of a young man laughed, eyeing me up and down as I tried and failed to shake myself out like a wet dog, only succeeding in tumbling over on my side, retching and shivering. Frankly, it was all I could to not... And I vomited. Great... Now even _that_ dignity was lost on me. "Benjamin Carson, Specialist extraordinaire, the Bandit of the Border, terror of the White Fang incarnate..."

"Sh-sh-sh-sh-sh-shove off, F-F-F-F-Fullmark!" I spat bitterly between chattering teeth. "Ugh... Leave m-m-me b-b-b-be!"

" _Yeeeeah_ , not this time, Carson." He crossed his arms, allowing a flicker of genuine annoyance to mar his genial expression for the first time. "Maybe before you ditched and got me in hot water. Clever trick with the decoy, by the way. How the hell you bundled up so many dogs together and got them working for you is beyond..." Echo cleared his throat, glaring at the Team Leader sharply, and motioning to his Scroll. "Right... Come on... _Boss_." The way the word left his lips sounded almost as if it pained him, or made him want to laugh. Couldn't quite tell which. My mind was still a bit foggy in places, made none the better by the both of them looming over me. "Someone's got an important date."

"Sh-sh-sh-shore leave for the entire crew. Th-th-th-that's what I promised the lot of ya," I grunted in spluttering annoyance, waving off his proffered hand and struggling to my feet, loosing more than a few choice words as my knee flared up once more.

Godsdamn, it was feeling like it'd just been stabbed all over again, with ice this time rather than just hot glass! And now I'm thinking of Cinder again... Lovely.

"That includes m-m-m- _me!_ C-c-cleared it with Iron-Ass and everything!" Echo flinched a bit at the casual air with which I tossed the General's name around, shifting on his feet uncomfortably while tapping away at his ever-present Scroll tablet.

"Work-wise, yes." My aide said after a few moments, probably hoping I wasn't picking up on the fact he kept eyeing Fullmark as if afraid I'd make a run for it. Fair assumption. If it weren't for the leg, I might've been tempted to give it a go. "Though there are some, uh... _personal_ commitments to attend to." He fumbled with the Scroll, narrowing his eyes. "Just give me one... Ah, here we go! The 'Magenta Acquisitions Gala and Charity Auction.'"

The 'Magenter what's-it,' now? Oh... Oh, crap, now it was coming back to me.

"You promised _her_ you would attend. Even asked me to make a special note to ensure..."

"I seem to remember she cancelled that little appearance," I groaned, working out a few kinks in my back. "Sent a message along, too. It's why I..." I sighed, glancing at the Brute. "...why _we_ decided to go out in the first place. 'Sides, I thought it was gonna be the day after tomorrow?"

"Last minute change of plans," Jasper supplied, shrugging blithely. "And it sorta was when we left the ship."

"And... when was that?" Why did I not care for the look they shared, bewilderment kicking in as my mind suddenly caught up and I realized where I was, a metal hand kneading at my pounding forehead gingerly. "Just... J-just how long was I out, if ya don't mind me askin'?"

Again, the look, a sigh forcing itself from my lips as I limped more than walked towards what I recognized had to have been their car. It was the only one still on wheels with even a shred of shine to it, after all.

"...On second thought, one of you just drive. Doubt I wanna know, anyway."

Going by the smell coming off the unfamiliar shirt draped over my shoulders, that was probably a good idea.

* * *

"So remind me, why am I here again?" Jasper muttered under his breath as Echo brought the car around, shielding his eyes from the rapid fire flash of cameras and Scrolls barraging the cars ahead. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I appreciate the leg work and all, but wouldn't one of the others have done a better job? Corvus, Claret, or hell, one of Hemlock's boys?"

"True, but I always like havin' someone noticeable for these things. Keeps the attention offa me. And who better to watch my back than the scariest Brute I have?" I chucked, tugging a metal arm through the sleeve of a fresh jacket courtesy of my overworked aide, while the other tugged at my noose of a tie.

 _'Seriously, any tighter and I might as well inherit the 'Hangman' nickname from dear old Dad,'_ I thought bitterly, taking a quick peek at the leering faces of the press, all jumbled up together with cameras at the ready. _'Godsdamn Nevermores...'_

I noticed the ex-Trapper was still looking at me and motioned to my neck, grinning with my usual feigned gusto. "Better yet, long as you hide the collar and keep your head down, you're pretty much unknown. Anyone tryin' to get at me won't know what hit 'em."

Jasper Fullmark, my blatantly obvious secret weapon, grinned despite himself, easing back in his seat and sharking a quick smirking look with my aide. "And what about the types that know exactly what I am? What then?"

"Then I'm the Specialist who's got a Trapper playin' guard dog for him." I shrugged, checking on and smoothing back my hair in the mirror idly, prepping myself for what I knew must come next. "Tends to send a pretty potent message all its own."

"So I'm a 'guard dog' now, eh? Careful, Carson. That almost sounds demeaning." I ignored the baiting jibe, judging my smile in the reflection and remembering all those months ago when I'd wondered at a certain heiress doing the exact same thing, stuck in the elevator of a building that no longer existed. There was no bite in his tone, or nothing that I could make out at any rate.

Fullmark was just happy to be off the ship and doing something, not content like the others on Team JADE to just sit about on the ship and cause their own brands of mischief. A fact for which I was quite grateful for.

I didn't need another Amys Claret, who liked to spy around with that Semblance of hers, or a Dai Jin who made use of whatever bits and pieces he could grab with almost inevitably explosive results. Etho Corvus, I could deal with, though having to send someone scrambling to track him down every time I wanted a word could be a bit wearing at times.

Though not nearly as wearing as the questions that hit the second I swung open the car door. Being a public figure had to have its disadvantages, after all.

"...Is that...? Carson! It's _Carson!_ "

"Specialist Carson, just how long do you plan to be in Atlas before...!?"

"...true that you and Miss Schnee are...!?

"...your thoughts on tonight's events!? I'm sure those at home are all very...!"

 _'Ah, well. I have bigger things to worry about, after all...'_

Things like managing to clamber out of the car with a bum leg without falling face first for the tabloids - my first big win of the night, and one I was sincerely proud of - bowing flamboyantly, and shooting off a toothy grin while a hundred cameras all worked to blind me at once via flash photography.

Or like hobbling my way over towards a fancy limousine of the purest white, with gilded silver detailing that probably cost more than most Badlands dwellers made in a year, pulling up behind my own vehicle. The timing was tactically arranged beforehand on the ride over, artfully coordinated between Echo and the other driver.

Opening the heavy door with all the flourish one might expect from me, I extended a metallic hand for Weiss Schnee, herself, to gracefully accept, guiding her from the car one snow pale leg at a time, and to her delicately heel-clad feet like a proper gentlemen.

"Miss Schnee." My head bowed, taking in the stunning floor length gown of shimmering fabrics of different hues of blue, accented by the glittering sapphires at her neck with a bandit's appraising eye as I brought her hand to my lips, barely grazing the icy skin. "You're lookin' lovely as always."

"Benjamin," the Heiress replied briskly, flashing a regal look over my shoulders that would've, and had, withered the resolve of every eye it met. "It seems Garrett managed to dress you properly, after all. This time, anyway." She allowed a small smile to crack the icy facade, a bit of warmth in those pale blue orbs to melt the heart. "I was afraid you weren't going to make it."

"And miss this whole song and dance? Not on your life, Princess." I winked, flashing some teeth and making sure it showed.

The camera vultures certainly liked that little exchange, but they absolutely absolutely _loved_ it when I used my leverage on her arm to pull the squeaking Schnee tight to my chest and almost sweep her off her feet, bringing our faces together as I used my flesh and blood hand to shield the money maker from the cameras at just the right moment. A perfect front page image of the Bandit of Beacon stealing a kiss from the Heiress to the Schnee Dust Company.

Good thing I blocked it, too, because in reality, we'd stopped mere breaths away from one another's lips without making contact, and I was pretty sure the blushing scowl on Weiss' face might've ruined the illusion somewhat.

As it was, it was taking all of my considerable willpower not to break down laughing right then and there.

" _Was that REALLY necessary!?_ " she hissed through a perfect rendition of flustered embarrassment as we broke apart, remaining close with her arm looped in my 'good' one, just like one might expect from the couple we were supposed to be, her other hand brushing her ponytail over her shoulder. "You almost ruined my hair."

"Who cares? It's a good look on y _aaagh!_ " I grunted, but kept my face schooled into boyish charm even as her nails bit into the meat of my bicep, Jasper's snickering clearly audible over even over the snaps of camera flashes.

"Your breath smells like a brewery." Fair point. Very fair. "Incorrigible blonde dolt... You came this close to actually...!" Her mouth twisted in subtle disgust, carefully hidden of course.

"Aw, c'mon, _honey._ Smile. It wasn't _that_ bad." I shot her a smirking grin to use as an example, rattling off a few humorous lines to one reporter's queries, memorizing her face for future reference, just like I did with everyone I talked to nowadays more out of habit than real need. Good to keep everyone and everything sorted. I remembered she'd come up a few times in briefings. A journalist from Atlas Academy; one of Ironwood's media hounds sent to keep an eye on me no doubt. "We're supposed to be in 'love,' remember?"

Love. The childishly romantic and disgustingly passionate kind of affection that sold out magazines, and made the public buzz with every snapshot of a 'kiss' there, or a longing look here.

Exactly how we'd arranged it.

The sort of relationship that even Jacques Schnee couldn't restrict, just as he had every other facet of the poor girl's life, no matter how much he disapproved. And disapprove he very much did. But hey, that just made it scandalous, which only made it harder to keep it contained. If he tried to keep her from one of the closest friends she had for hundred of miles, he'd look like he was squashing young love to an adoring public.

And while the Schnee Patriarch valued his control over his legacy, he happened to value his public image just a bit more, or at least enough to allow her certain leeway when it came to me. As long as we kept the charade looking good and interesting, of course, and I kept myself behaved and in check. It was a balance, one I tested more often than I should have.

 _'Thank you, Echo, ya beautiful bastard.'_ I really needed to make sure he had some proper time off, or help him with Cherry. Heaven knows he needed it. The Badlands-born minx would eat a kid like him alive like a rabid Razorback. _'Better yet, I need to check myself.'_

As if I hadn't made that promise a dozen times before. A dozen times tonight, even.

"Hey, you thinkin' dear ol' Dad saw us?" I glanced over her head, catching a momentary glimpse of two white heads through the thickest throng of paparazzi, flanked on all sides by Atlas guards assigned to the President's detail. Jacques Schnee and his son, Whitley, that little shadow of his. The man himself shot me a nodding smile of stern fatherly disapproval that made me gag a bit, tasting acid. "Yep. He totally did."

What do you know. My second win for the night. Now I just had to survive an evening of boring discourse, exaggerated tales of my exploits, and the nagging sense that someone else ought to be digging her claws into me, and we might just make it three.

 _'Wow... Bein' famous. Not all it's cracked up to be.'_

* * *

-END

* * *

 _ **A/N: Alright, so the first bit of this story is underway and we're caught up with just about everyone so far. Man I miss Beacon, so easy to keep track of everyone.**_

 _ **And yeah, Ben is not perfect, much as his crew is trying to make him seem like it. Song is 'Ladies Love Country Boys' by Trace Adkins, suitably campy I thought.**_

* * *

 **(Next Chapter: A Defender defends, a Hound makes her mark, a Bandit's date with the Heiress, and the Hunter readies himself.)**


	7. Chapter 7

**Edited as of (9/16/19)**

 **PB: Da-Awesom-One**

* * *

A HUNDRED OTHER THINGS

* * *

 ** _-Reika Murasaki-_**

"Please, sirs! Be reasonable! We aren't seeking any trouble! My Love, sh-she was merely interested in...!" Whatever the Horo-Sha had been about to say had been abruptly turned to a wheezing groan of pain, the other man's knee crashing into his stomach, and putting the masked man on his knees in a puddle of trembling furs and discordant bells. His companion, and wife from what I could see of how she clung to him protectively in an attempt to shield him, let out a shrill shriek as she was pulled away roughly and thrown into the dirt. " _Ranna!_ Please... P-please, I assure you, a-all we wanted was...!"

"The chance to grab a free trinket when you thought my back was turned, huh!? Is that it!?" His attacker was a broad-shouldered, lumbering giant of a merchant with a pinched face twisted with malice, and beady little eyes that blazed angrily as he loomed over the pair, brandishing a simple locket on a silver chain in their hidden faces. "Thought you'd try and get one over on me, did ya!? Well, think again! I know your kind, and your tricks! Talk a good game, acting all peaceful and tame. Thieves, the lot of yous!"

" _Yeah!_ " his compatriot chimed in over his friend's shoulder, kicking dust at Ranna as she tried to stand. "I saw her eyein' it up. Was just about to snatch it when you stopped her!" Of course, he didn't explain how he could even tell she was looking at the necklace in question when he couldn't even make out her eyes behind the fabric and the mask. He didn't need to.

The locket itself was pretty, even without much in the way of filigree or ornamentation, the locket sort of inexpensive bauble one could've found in any jewelry store in Vale before the Grimm attacked. In fact, it very well could have been once, seeing as that night had provided more than enough opportunity for both man and beast, looters taking what share of the bounty they could get amidst the chaos and confusion. The way he held it, it could've been some priceless artifact of note, and not the trinket my trained thief's eye knew it to be.

It wasn't the real reason he or his friend were doing this, though. That much was obvious, even without my Semblance revealing every little emotional undertone. And that fact just made me all the angrier.

A throng was gathering, passersby up and down the road ceasing their daily routines to stop and stare at the new spectacle. Some even joined in, tossing jeers and recriminations at the Horo-Sha.

The young man worked up the breath to plead his case once again, undaunted, if not unbroken. "Sirs, there's... T-there's clearly been a misunderstanding! She was admiring it, yes. but...!"

"So you admit it!"

The shouted accusation drove him back into cowering silence, his wife crawling across the ground to be with him, holding him tightly as the first of the rocks and detritus began to fly. The crowd was getting involved now, calling out further threats and recriminations in support of their townsmen. And why wouldn't they? Who were they to believe, their neighbors, or the strangely dressed travelers that had arrived only recently?

"We don't need outsiders mucking about, causing trouble for good, decent folk!" the large man spat to the agreement of his crowd, grunting smugly as a rock collided with the face of the younger man's mask, knocking him back, and leaving a long jagged crack across the surface of the enamel. "What have you got under those masks, anyway, huh!? What are you hiding!?"

"Maybe they're all Faunus?" his comrade suggested with a shrug, the mirth gone from his voice now. "Think about it! Freaks might just be White Fang in disguise! The whole lot of 'em!"

That really got the blood boiling in the crowd, anger rippling through their collective Auras like a tidal wave. Anger, and fear... So much fear. An undercurrent to the rage; a cancer rooted in these people at the thought of Vale, their Kingdom, in ashes.

 _'These are the people I swore to defend.'_ A sobering notion, now that I really stopped to look.

They were afraid, that terror lingering like a shroud in the sea of soul-born lights I could perceive. But that was no excuse. Not for this.

"That what you are? A buncha animals in disguise!?" The merchant made to make a grab for Ranna's mask, the young woman flinching backwards, as if his hand had scalded her, shaking her head though her tears. Uncaring, he made to try again, this time coming within inches of making contact before my hand snatched hold of his wrist tightly, sending him stumbling backwards, arms waving to steady himself. "What the...!?" I didn't respond, obviously, not even really acknowledging he was there at all beyond the flickering stutter of his own weak soul.

I was too busy checking on my charges, Ranna shaken, but otherwise unharmed. Her husband was bleeding, crimson staining his yellowed mask, and dripping from the inside down to the sides. He seemed dazed, concussed, but they were safe now. That was what mattered. Focus on that. I motioned for her to stay low and do what she could for him, the crowd at least no longer throwing anything, merely content to watch their agitator lumber forward to stand above me, my head level with the lower part of his chest.

"And just what're you supposed to be?" the merchant grumbled, taking in my half mask and the bells woven through my hair before understanding took hold. "Ah, well ya look at that! Another freak. Tinier, too. Move it, kid." His lackey snickered, moving to flank his lead, trying to appear threatening. "I said _move!_ "

Such posturing wasn't unfamiliar to me, the art of playing oneself up practically a necessity for life in the Badlands. Or at the very least, in my case, anyway, one had to be strong enough to warrant the silence. If anything, this pair reminded me all too readily of the Atlesian puppets traveling about my adopted home region, spitting on the efforts of the pioneers who had struggled every day just to survive in such a hostile place, just like their families and ancestors long before them had done. Just the thought of it set my fist curling, a move that didn't go unnoticed.

"Oh, itching for a fight, are you? Sorry, kid, not my fault your folks are a bunch of bandits!" the big brute chuckled, turning his nose up distastefully at my little display of defiance, some in the crowd joining along. That was the thing with mobs: it made you stupid; it made you compliant... Just like Bill had always said. "What? Got somethin' to say?"

 ** _"...I just knew you had something to say...!"_** My brow twitched...

"..."

"Shove off kid, before you get hur...!"

He tried to do just that, push me aside to get at his real prey, a predator looking to ignore the tasty morsel before him in favor of his injured victim. His Aura had been smug, reassured of his superiority. A superiority I shattered in an instant the moment my arm leapt up with near-blinding speed to catch his wrist in a mailed vice grip so tight, I could hear the straining of tendons and the creaking of bone.

"..."

I shook my head and waggled a finger of my free hand, knowing he couldn't see my eyes, but imagining he could feel the heat of my gaze even then. The brute tried to escape, not really comprehending how the little girl half his height was managing to hold him back, tugging and pulling at his arm while the other looked on, confused at just what he was seeing. I was immovable, stone set in place, not even a straining muscle to even show I was trying.

"F- _freak!_ " Panic was building now in his Aura. My new friend knew he was trapped, resorting to insults and pleas. I'd heard worse in my time, unfazed by his attempts. Pulling with all his strength, trying to dislodge himself, he struggled on. "What!? What _are_ you!?"

Second by second I allowed it to continue, making sure he understood his mistake before I obliged and finally released him, doing my part to avoid laughing as the giant toppled over into a rolling somersault through the dirt from the force of his own efforts, crashing with a heavy * _thud_ * against the side of his cart.

From this angle, I was taller now, looking down on the little man with his little soul. My back twinged painfully, and laughter echoed in my ears, setting a soundless snarl across my lips that sent his friend running and him cowering, my knuckles cracking.

It didn't matter. _I_ was stronger. _I_ was the powerful one, now. _I_ was...! I was...

"That's quite enough, Miss Murasaki. You've made your point, I think." Lux's aged rasp snapped me back to myself, anger receding and my poise returning, if slowly. I shook my head out, allowing the bell's tiny chime to calm me further as I looked back to catch sight of the aged elder of the Horo-Sha splitting the tide of onlookers down the middle. His purposeful path towards us was unobstructed, bared face the model of calm but stern, leaning on his staff.

"Elder, we...!?" Ranna made to speak but was interrupted by a shake of the head, the Healer stooping to examine his fallen charge. "Is he...?"

"He'll be alright, Child. Now hurry on back to the encampment. Seek Pino out, and tell him what happened." She nodded slowly, shouldering her husband's stumbling weight, turning to leave before Lux's last words made her hesitate. "You did well to stay the course, both of you. I know it was difficult." A slight bow, from both of them this time, and then they were gone. The crowd parting for them, just as they had for Lux, seemingly unwilling to acknowledge them any further.

Fear and shame now pervaded the Auras of those around us, more of the former, though the latter flourished under the Old Man's steady gaze. "I apologize for the actions of my people, good sir." The merchant stiffened at the attention, eyes drifting between the two of us frantically. "If they caused you any offense, any at all..."

"J-just get out!" he stammered weakly in abject terror, holding his hands before him when Lux made to approach. "I've heard the stories about you masked freaks! Bad luck follows you around like the plague, wherever you go! We don't need that here!"

I made to move, the man flinching back away from me, but I was stopped in my advance by Lux's staff rapping gently but firmly against my chest piece with a tinkle of chimes. "I apologize once more, friend. I assure you, we intend to take a ship on the morrow. Please suffer our presence for only a little while longer." The Elder reached for the pockets of his robes, rooting about until he pulled a jingling sack cloth free, and tossed it at the merchant, the citizen's eyes bulging at the sight of the precious stones glittering within. "For your trouble, and your understanding."

He bowed low, staff suddenly behind my head and pushing me down as well into a similar if somewhat forced gesture, before I felt myself being ushered away from the scene, leaving behind a stunned crowd and a tiny man.

He and the rest of them, all so small...

* * *

"That was uncalled for, Miss Murasaki."

I accepted the old Healer's rebuke with a stiff nod as we crested the hill leading towards the Horo-Sha encampment, unable to meet those orange-tinged eyes of his. I was afraid of what I might see.

"Such an outburst was childish, inciteful, and entirely unnecessary. I would've expected better, especially after all of our lessons."

 _" **Unnecessary!?** " _I tried to keep emotion from afflicting the signs, but failed miserably, the exclamation shooting through with indignant annoyance at being held back, and irritation at what the Elder was implying. _"That man was harming your people! For no reason; **none!** And you paid him off!"_ My back ached, and like tinder stoking a flame, only worked to exacerbate my own tensions. At Lux and his high road, at the Horo-Sha and their naive expectations, myself for failing to meet them... _"Why!?"_

"Because doing so aided in protecting my people. That alone is worth the loss of a little pride," he replied calmly, looking back towards the small port town below, and the boundless seas beyond. "And because he did have reason, in his own mind at least. Not one I agreed with - certainly not if it meant him bringing harm down upon my fellows - but one I could understand." He motioned to his attire, to the mask hanging about my neck on its straps. "We know that our way of life can be seen as strange, unsettling, to most of Remnant. People see us as outsiders; a moniker we wear with pride, but also must accept the burden of. What would've occurred if I'd allowed you to continue your assault, or if those two had argued their case? Who would've stood by you? What if doing so merely brought disaster upon the camp? I applaud their resolve, and though you might not feel so, I do compliment the purpose behind your own action, if not the method you undertook. Lack of thought, not of character."

"..." I let out a short huff of irritation, closing my eyes for but a moment, finding the guttering spark of light that constituted the merchant. He was rattled, yes, but smug, satisfied. He'd felt he won, and was being congratulated for it. " _He had no right to do that. None at all."_

"No soul has ever held the 'right' to harm another. Not in war, not in vengeance, not even in the service of some arbitrary goal." He referred to the White Fang, the Red Hand, the Frontier, even the Kingdoms and their Huntsmen. "Violence is never the answer."

 _"And what of the Grimm!?"_ I shot back, unable to help myself. _"What about them!? You can't reason with monsters!"_

"Perhaps, but fighting them is better?" I glanced at him, confused, the Horo-Sha sighing deeply. "You do not ascribe to our ways. It is why we do nothing when you charge forth seeking conflict with the beasts of Grimm. But is not your own aggression towards them, the anger and hatred I've seen you and so many other Huntsman and Huntresses wield against them, only drawing more towards you?" But that was the _point;_ the best way to make sure you could exterminate them all. Lux evidently noticed my own feelings on the matter, bowing his head sagely in acquiescence. "I do not expect you to agree, only to recognize that rather than fight, we avoid the Grimm whenever possible, passing with as little a trace over the land as we can. It is how we've survived for so long." He motioned with his staff towards the camp in the midst of final preparations for the voyage ahead, breaking down carts and wagons, calming rattled horses and securing their belongings.

 _"That doesn't mean you shouldn't stand up for yourselves!"_

"And that would accomplish what?"

There was no rebuke there, more sad amusement tinging his spirit than anything else. A resignation that was present in many of the Horo-Sha, only made more evident as we'd approached and entered the town. When I'd first noticed the stares people were throwing our way. Even in the Badlands, surrounded by bandits and criminals, I'd received warmer welcomes.

"You'll find most believe us to be little more than simple thieves. A blessing, really, compared to the alternative." He rattled his staff, letting the chimes play over the wind. "I've heard some name us monsters. Creatures of Grimm, even, in disguise. They say we travel from Kingdom to Kingdom, settlement to settlement, spreading misfortune, and stealing children away in the dead of night." A chuckle, heavy, with the weight of emotion behind it. "And it is hard to argue their perspective, especially those dead set in such beliefs. When something unfortunate occurs, it is easy for them to blame us for their troubles. Simpler. When we welcome a hungry child with nowhere to call their own off their streets and into our number - a soul they never cared to look at previously - they suddenly cry out that we 'spirited them away,' as if they were theirs to possess all along."

"Violence begets violence, conflict begets conflict. We've learned that all too well. The first of the Horo-Sha - the first to lose their homes and livelihoods to Remnant's harsh whims, bitter, angry, unable to let go of their resentments and realize their fortune - learned this as well. It is why they fell along to the wayside." There was a sorrowful edge to the old man's tone, and he tapped a finger to his heart. Some others nearby who must've overheard replied with similar gestures. "It is why we choose to run. To hide. To avoid places such as this city when we can. Better that, than to lose ourselves again."

" _It shouldn't have to be that way."_

"But it is. And if living this long has taught me anything, it is that we must take the world as it is, not how we might wish it to be." His eyes drifted, picking Pino out from among the throng of masked men and women, helping some of the other men with the packing while the younger adults shepherded the children. All aided in some small way. That was how the Horo-Sha lived. "I know some might disagree, but it is the way of things. It's more peaceful."

"... _I understand."_ He smiled, if not convincingly, giving me another short bow before moving to direct his people's efforts, leaving me alone to look at the horizon, feeling the steady trio of souls that shined like beacons in the darkness.

 _'I understand... but I **can't** live like that... Not anymore. I won't just hide behind a mask.'_

Something told me the world wouldn't be that generous.

* * *

 _ **-Maxine Argus-**_

"Why?"

The question was out of my mouth and in the air before I could help myself, and I regretted it instantly. I detected the weakness of it, the slightest tremor present in the hastily blurted word when it hit my ears, made all the clearer by sharpened senses.

It was a disgusting thing to hear, leaving my stomach in knots as I shifted forward over the rail of the dented metal chair, absentmindedly scratching minuscule furrows across the back in random patterns with long painted nails. Either that, or just sit there like an idiot listening to the low-whining of buzz of motors, feeling the tugging burn across my back, all while gazing lazily about the confines of cramped cell.

' _Cell._ ' Really, that's probably the best one could call the somewhat cramped space, and even that was being overly generous. It was barely large enough to fit a bed and a few sparse bits of furniture with a bit of effort, and illumination designed to be provided by a pair of Dust-powered strip lights that would reveal white walls of decaying masonry. and two wrought iron doors. One an entrance, of course, the other leading to a surprisingly nice wash room in Mistrali style.

That last bit had struck me as rather odd at first, though given the owner of the room's... habits, I supposed a good wash would be needed every once in a while. A few more stains did line the walls, though, products of her last plaything's struggles, and a fair share of dents and cracks in the masonry and furniture, which were far more recent. Oh gods, had she been _pissed_ when Command had stolen him away from her.

"Really? This again, huh?"

Speaking of whom, it seemed my little outburst hadn't gone entirely unnoticed after all. _'No, of course it hadn't...'_

I stiffened slightly with a hissing intake of breath, ears twitching as Charlotte halted her administrations, pulling the ink rotor away from raw flesh already scabbing over at my Aura's urging. "Careful now, Maxi. You're starting to get predictable. That's a big no-no," the Spider Faunus chided, wiping away with a soaked cloth that absolutely reeked of alcohol, and left my nose burning... "Now hold still. Don't want me slipping, now do we?"

"I'm serious, Cerise! I, _ack...!_ " The stabbing feeling intensified, making me yelp and damn near jump out of the seat if not for pure force of will. "You little...!"

"Oops." I blanched at the casual tone her voice took on, the lack of its usual cheery sing-song and a subtle shift in her scent more than enough to relay her irritation. The slightest graze against my bare back by a cold finger, the shivers it sent down my spine speaking of danger? That was just extra. "We talked about this, didn't we?"

"Fine, fine, I get it. But I'm serious, _Charlie!_ "

I risked a wary glance over my shoulder, easily marking out her smug lithe features, even despite the low light. Cerise, like most of the Blood Hounds under her, more often than not preferred to navigate the winding complex of tunnels and chambers that Project APEX called home by natural night vision alone. It was more a matter of comfort and good sense than anything else, the humming given off by the electrical system, and the fact that those things were still flickering at the best of times, would've been a damnable source of annoyance for any Faunus.

And when a Blood Hound was annoyed, things tended to get out of hand.

Just something to grow used to, joining the list of a hundred others.

"Think about it! Weeks of promises, excuses, and bullshit! Weeks of Falkner going on and on about how I just need to wait a bit longer, 'just a bit longer!'" I spat through gritted teeth as she resumed, feeling a low growl building in the back of my throat at the pain before I used it instead, drawing on it like I'd been taught. "When do I get my first dose? My first _real_ dose, and not some damn catalyst!?"

"Wow, you're _really_ hung up on this, aren't you?" I couldn't help but wince at the way my Pack Alpha sighed, as if I were some schoolgirl hung up on a crush and gushing to her friend for the hundredth time. "Complain all you like, but the Doctor's decisions are final, especially when it comes to the Brew." She shrugged with the barest hint of a smile, biting her lip as she worked. "Those are the rules, always have been. And they apply to everyone."

"Not to _him,_ they don't!" Whatever discomfort the needle tipped pen caused was lost in the anger of the words, my eyes set, ears flush against my skull. "If my dad told her to hold off, no _way_ would she refuse him. She's too scared of him to say otherwise." Surprising enough in itself to anyone who'd never seen the two alone. Hard enough to imagine the Avian Faunus being afraid of anything.

"Not exactly an uncommon trait, y'know," the spider girl quipped back, her voice at least conveying something approaching comforting support. "Don't take this the wrong way, but Argus is precious to her. He's an APEX. Not just that, but a _True_ APEX. The sort of warrior Falkner's been trying to create since the White Fang approved of this little game."

I couldn't hide a grimace at the awe present as she talked about my dad like... like _that._ Almost like he was some idol to be worshiped, an ideal to strive for, which he was, I supposed. An ideal to every warrior that called themselves Blood Hound.

Mighty upon and outside the battlefield, unstoppable and unyielding in the rare moments I'd seen him fight for real. My first mission as a Blood Hound, at least since I'd returned from whatever mission had put me out of commission, tore my thoughts to shreds, just as Conan Argus himself had done. Not so much fighting, but simply killing.

To fight him was to die. At least that was the way it had seemed to me, staring wide-eyed as he took on the Atlesian forces sent to stop us. Standing alone, invincible.

In a way, I guessed it was just harder to think of him as the man that raised me in such a way, given having known him before. Reconciling the man from my fractured memories who would smile at my mother's jokes, sit with me when I had nightmares, and tell me stories... and the predator he was now, always on edge during the all too rare moments nowadays when we found time to spend together as father and daughter. When he thought I couldn't see the toll on him.

Sometimes, I had to wonder if I wasn't so desperate to taste the Butcher's Brew not just to fit in among my comrades, but to understand what it was my father was enduring, even if it were only a fraction of it.

Cerise listened patiently as I told her this, an admission I hadn't expected to give, but the privacy of the room was too tempting, the concerns too pressing, nodding along patiently as she worked. She was the closest to the man, not just personally or even in position, but by simple virtue of what she was as well. Everyone knew she would be the one to lead the Hounds one day, even before she started taking on the lion's share of responsibility from a steadily more and more reclusive Argus.

The closest out of all of us - all of _them,_ I supposed - to becoming an APEX herself. A soldier capable of mastering the Butcher's Song in their blood, a mighty if brutal force for change and equality. A bane to the enemies of the White Fang. In layman's terms, without the hyped-up mumbo-jumbo, she was strong. She knew it, I knew it, we all damn well knew it.

And I envied her for that, as much as I couldn't help but admire her. She had a connection to my dad that I was growing increasingly more paranoid that I'd never get to experience for myself, no matter the cost.

"It won't work."

That was it, her answer given simply and succinctly at the end of my rant, pulling away and seemingly ignorant of the crushing blow her words had just dealt me. But she wasn't. I could smell it, and she could feel my rising tension; my doubt. So she tried distracting me, and I let her... in my own desperate attempt to skate over this whole awkward moment.

" _Aaaaaand finished!_ " The Spider Faunus clapped her palms together, grabbing up a nearby mirror, and holding it at an angle, allowing me to view the fresh pair of blood red fang-toothed marks she'd inked into the meat of my left shoulder blade. The additions were woven with existing fangs to form a grinning bestial maw made up of similar markings, each intricately done and unique in their own subtle way. "You like it?"

Of course I liked it, and I told her so emphatically as I brought my arms over my head and let the ragged long sleeve make me decent again, all while trying to ignore her slight blush of innocent embarrassment and pride at the praise, or my own for giving it.

The markings themselves were part of a surprisingly artistic tradition that had sprung up amongst some of the older members of Project APEX in place of ghoulish things like trophies. Reminders for significant or particularly memorable enemies vanquished, a visible memory of the deed. A tradition I'd taken to with gusto, especially after finding out my Pack Alpha had an all too hidden talent for design, being the only one capable of taking my ideas and bringing them to life, aside from myself, of course. Thing is, it was a bit awkward to hold the pen and still manage anything near my usual exacting quality.

That kitty girl who'd tried so hard to off me during my trials to join the ranks of the White Fang's best, an Atlas Huntsman who'd taken down two of my Pack before my Semblance took him down, along with much of the building we'd been fighting across, a particularly nasty Alpha Beowolf that had nearly taken my head off after a nasty tumble into its lair... and others, each clearly jotted down on my skin as a reminder of lessons learned and victories to be savored.

Charlotte had even let me ink down a couple for her, allowing me to add to the veritable tapestry that stretched across her back in web-like patterns from her shoulder to her lower back, the product of years. That hadn't been so much a favor as it had been an honor, though an awkward one. She enjoyed pain, I enjoyed causing it. Suffice it to say, I'd fumbled for excuses not to say yes to her unsubtle pleas to stay longer, face feeling like it'd been cooked over a fucking fire pit.

Just like it was now, and judging by the way she was eyeing me... I think, it was often difficult to tell where she was looking with those pupil-less black orbs. A mild source of discomfort in the beginning, they were starting to grow on me. And once you got her hair up and out of her face, she really was something. High cheekbones, a pouting face with a fang-filled smile, limbs like... Why was I so fixated on her nose?

 _'Yep, excuses coming right up...'_

* * *

 ** _-Benjamin Carson-_**

 _'...Y'know,'_ I wondered inattentively, allowing my eyes to mindlessly drift across the mess of strident colors and vaguely geometric shapes decorating the canvas as Weiss busied herself with deflecting curious party-goers eager for more stories about the 'novelty' of being a Huntress, _'I don't think I'll ever really understand modern art.'_

From what I was overhearing from the pair beside us - though it was hard to call them that when the one doing most of the talking was practically announcing his opinions to the gallery at large - this piece was apparently supposed to be a visual representation of the visceral struggle between Mankind's indomitable spirit of innovation, and the sinister unyielding virtues embodied by the Creatures of Grimm. Sounded like a pretty concept. Real shame that, to me, it just looked like some misshapen Beowolf was trying to awkwardly mount a cactus, and failing miserably.

 _'Not in a million years...'_

Especially when it came to understanding the financial cost of such 'works.' For example, the going bid for this piece of glorified Grimm snuff, alone, would've had the palms of just about every bandit in the Badlands tingling at the very thought. Mine included. Weiss practically had to grab a hold of me to keep my legs from falling out underneath me when the curator of this little get-together had thrown the suspected amount out as casually as he pleased, acting as if it were a normal occurrence to spend an average man's life savings on fancy doodles.

But of course, that was the point of having the auction, wasn't it? Some attempt by the bigwigs of Atlas to pretend to be charitable while flaunting their wealth to their rivals all the while. Still had to wonder just how much money was actually going to...

 _'Hang on, not too sure I really knew who the Lien's going to this time around.'_

It might've been Vale, though I suspected Mantle, going by the few obviously uncomfortable citizens in secondhand clothes milling about, trying their best to look like they belonged. Representatives from the Kingdom's sister city, brought in to give a face to the public, and something to silently criticize for the rich.

Gods above, I _hated_ the way they smiled like that, like they were indulging their lessers with the honor of their attention. _Gods,_ I wanted to rub the horrors of everything they tried to ignore in their smarmy faces. Gods... Gods...

 _' **...Gods,** I could use a drink...'_

Of course, I had checked the near-overwhelming urge to pluck at the plentiful glasses the servers were carting about at the door to the gallery, fingers shaking with heavy impulse. It wouldn't do to make a scene. Not here. Not with Jacques Schnee watching the two of us like a hawk out the corner of one eye, even as he conversed with someone I thought might've been a Council Member, loosing a perfectly timed fake laugh at something the man had said.

His courageous daughter and her famed Specialist of a paramour were meant to only mill about, socialize, and look suitably important. Dual signs of his legacy and his influence that he was not only the President of one of the most successful business companies in all of Remnant, but had connections in the Council of Atlas, and even in General Ironwood's circle as well.

Probably another reason why he tolerated me near his progeny: I served his ends as much as he served mine. Him, that stupid mustache, and that smirk that always gave me the the impression he was... Did he just nod at me? It was hard to tell at this angle, and it was only made all the harder when every expression he made had me thinking back to those lovely few moments back in Vale when I'd gotten to introduce my fist to his...

"Benjamin." I felt a gentle tugging at my sleeve, the tone in the Heiress' voice more resigned than irritated, but only just. Never a good sign, or so I'd learned over the course of our faked romance. " _...Benjamin,_ you're doing it again."

"Huh?" I snapped my attention back to the matter at hand, namely the young woman hanging off my arm in a manner that she - and hopefully the horde of media hounds present, watching our every move - would consider affectionate. She was getting pretty good at keeping up the act, as sad as that no doubt was, to the point even I would have had trouble if I didn't know her well as I did. "Doin' what, again?"

"Daydreaming, or whatever it is you do in that little blonde head of yours," she groaned, shaking her head and glancing upwards at the painting that had seemingly stolen my attention. "You know you could at least _pretend_ to look as if you're enjoying yourself, or at least listening? It's rather insulting otherwise."

Well, we couldn't have that, could we? I plastered on a knowing grin, holding out my arm proper, and allowing her to drag us along to the next exhibition, careful to avoid those who just _had_ to speak to the 'Heroes of Vale.' "Sorry, darlin'. Just got lost in your boundless beauty, s'all." My eyes met hers for a moment, enjoying the slight warmth of embarrassment swiftly beaten down by her self-control. "Couldn't help myself."

"Oh, save it for the interviews, will you?" Weiss snorted in quite an unladylike fashion, a rebuke that probably would have proven more effective if not for the small smile that played across her lips. One that faltered somewhat when her eyes crossed the room, remembering where we were, and who we were here for. "I'm sorry. I know you hate coming to these things."

"So do you. Though it's nothin' we can't handle, Princess." The use of the nickname had been meant to comfort her, but only seemed to have the opposite effect, her frown deepening even further. "Weiss?"

"...It's all rather strange, isn't it?" I could feel her grip tighten by degrees, her emotions hidden behind a practiced facade of cool, outgoing serenity. The kind I hated more than any other. "How can they all just stand around, and act like nothing's wrong? Vale, the CCT, the White Fang... It's like they still think everything's... everything's..."

"Normal?" I supplied, hoping I kept the worst of my bitterness in check.

Throwing caution to the winds, I reached out and snatched hold of a pair of glasses from a passing server without the man even noticing, my patience exhausted by this point. Weiss eyed the drink with a sour expression as I offered it to her, before taking it from me with a final lingering sigh of resignation as I downed my own in a single discreet gulp.

"Think about it this way: Vale was real for you. You lived through it, and saw what came after. But to these folks, it was just somethin' they saw on a screen 'fore everything went dark. Just a fanciful story happenin' somewhere far away. Hell, even the Frontier scrapin' at the border's just some novelty."

"That doesn't mean they should just stand around doing nothing!" my friend spat back with a harsh conviction that burned in those pale blue orbs of hers, meeting my own with grim determination. "We have the means to help. We should be doing more!"

"And _that's_ why you're my favorite Schnee." I patted her on the back affectionately, ignoring the rapid fire click of cameras sounding from all sides. "Not that ya had a lotta competition goin' on that... front?" My comment trailed off into the ground, Weiss looking up at me curiously, and, upon seeing the disbelief written across my face, followed my stare towards a small alcove away from the main thoroughfare, occupied by a few scattered works, with one in particular garnering my attention.

"Ben?"

I was already in motion, unwittingly dragging her along with me as I all but ran until I was standing before the small, time-weathered canvas. Hardly as grand or ostentatious as many of the other works I'd seen prominently displayed through the hall, and not of some idea or attempt to put a concept in visual form. It was a place, a Mistrali festival, judging by the architecture on display, rendered in picture-perfect detail, down to the designs cast in shadow by colorful paper lanterns and the stars shining in the night sky above.

"What's...?" Weiss was staring right along with me, mouth agape in stunned bewilderment. Easy to see why, too. The painting almost seemed to glow with an inner light all its own, literally and figuratively. "Is that... Dust?"

That it was, now that she'd noted it and I could tear my focus away from the piece in its entirety. The artist, deliberately and perhaps foolhardily, had taken it upon themselves to mix small quantities of Dust into the paints, creating a luster that took the breath away. It was no doubt dangerous, but the effect was staggering, a blow to the senses both physical and Aura-driven as direct as the one who had created the piece. I didn't need the small holographic plaque across the bottom to tell me who'd cast the work of art into life. I'd have known that style anywhere, having sent the better part of a few weeks dwelling over her work. The work of one...

" _'Stars in Mural'_ by Mistress Bordeaux," the Heiress read aloud in a low whisper, eyes darting from my face, to the plaque, and to the painting itself. "Her first work. The first released publicly, and the one that jump-started her career." Realization was dawning now, the connections falling into place without my aid, smart young woman that she was. It was obvious, putting what she knew of my partner together with that family name. "Maxine... This is one of hers, isn't it?"

"Ain't no doubt about it..." The reply came out more as a breathy croak, my metal hand closing tightly around my friend's, as if afraid I might fall again, if for entirely different reasons this time around. I licked my lips, mouth suddenly all too dry, feeling the edges of the scar at the corner of my mouth that _she_ had marked me with that night. "...It's her's."

I don't know how long we stood there, staring at the painting with blank looks and no words. Long enough for others to notice and come along, trying to comment on the piece as if we cared what they had to say, losing interest quickly in our apparent lack of any to start with. Weiss waited until the last of these had gone before speaking up, voice low and serious.

"Has anything turned up?" The question was barely even a whisper, so I had to strain to hear. And she'd been standing next to me. The Heiress was taking no chances, and I was grateful for her caution. For her keeping a leveled head in this, seeing as I was still somewhat out of sorts. "Your search, I mean. You didn't say...?" She answered her own question, pursing her lip tight, and biting back any further reminders at my failure. "You know that doesn't mean anything, right? Just because you haven't found anything yet doesn't mean that there's nothing to find."

"You're right, but my fumblin' about ain't helpin' matters."

I appreciated what she was trying to do more than I would've believed possible. A part of me even wanted to laugh at the fact that a Schnee was actually trying to comfort me for once. The very notion of it would've sounded like madness only a few months before. Of course, me being an Atlesian Specialist on the great General James Ironwood's payroll, and the fact I was pretending to date said Schnee, also might've qualified. That, and a hundred other things I could name off the top of my head...

"Bad enough with only a few days' lead, let alone weeks. It was always gonna be a long shot with her." I felt a light tug on my right side where flesh met metal, the source being her hand giving my metal shoulder light squeeze across the metal surface of the artificial limb. "And Reika... Gods, the odds on her are even worse, and that's sayin' somethin'. I knew it. Psycho did, too."

"...Have you heard anything from Joel?"

Her voice was tense, laden with an irritation at herself, the situation at hand. Weiss Schnee was a Huntress to the core, not some Heiress meant to be stuck up in her house like some delicate piece, shown off and dolled up for Daddy's benefit. She craved action. She wanted to help, and this helplessness needled at her to no end. I understood that, because I was pretty much the same. Had to wonder just who was benefiting more from our little arrangement at times, this little partnership of ours...

"Anything at all?"

"Nothin' for weeks now," I admitted, as much as it pained me. "Not so much as a peep on any of the Specialist's channels or resources."

Which was nothing too serious or unheard of, especially in today's world. Add in the fact that one Joel Ambrose also, technically, happened to be a wanted criminal on the run, well... It sorta made sending parcels and letters a bit awkward, at times, especially when I was pretty sure Ironwood was still watching my and his brother's mail. It should be a good thing that he was still in the wind, beyond the reach of Kingdom pursuers.

Still, I would've appreciated an update beyond a vague letter and an, admittedly, precious sketchbook. Something to tell me my friend, Team Leader, and brother-in-arms was still alive somewhere, fighting the good fight as only a man like him could.

Ambrose was strong - inhumanly so in more ways than one - but this was a whole new Remnant, after all. Between the White Fang, the Grimm, and his own people alongside the Red Hand, who knows what might happen?

 _'And his nickname still stands for a reason...'_ My friend was a good man, despite the missteps in his past. What kept me up at nights wasn't his morals, but his mindset behind them; his drive.

When Joel found something wrong with the world, and saw that he could do something about it, he tried to fix it no matter the obstacles or protests in his way. No matter what it cost him to achieve his goal. It was what made him so damned heroic, admirable... I'd even hesitate to call it 'noble.' But it was also what saw him join the likes of the Red Hand in the first place. He was unyielding.

 _'One of the most loyal friends to have in a pinch, but as an enemy... your worst nightmare.'_ I could appreciate his nature at times, but that certain aspect of my friend terrified me as well, chilling me to the bone.

"I'm certain Joel's doing just fine, wherever he is." Even I had to turn my head at the certainty in her announcement, feeling my lip twitch upwards at the smile she wore. "That big lug may be foolhardy, and reckless in the extreme, but he's not stupid." The Heiress shrugged her delicate shoulders, giving the painting and the Huntsman both an approving nod. "We both know how stubborn he can be, and I dare say he'd be able to overcome just about any obstacle if the alternative was disappointing Yang."

"...Y'know, that _just_ might be the nicest thing I've ever heard ya say 'bout him." A genuine grin took hold of me, my arm wrapping around her shoulder and drawing her in with a shrill squeak of protest. "Gotta admit, though, he can still be an idiot at times."

"No more than you are, Benjamin. Far less so, at times." Alright, suppose I deserved that, what with the way she was eyeing the empty glass idling in my hand, or the flask she knew was hidden in my jacket's pocket. "Finding our friends is important, but the way you're going about it is just..." She balked at the last moment, glancing over her shoulder at Jacques prowling through the room like a Razorback stalking its prey before looking away, focusing on the painting once more. As for me, I'd still had trouble taking my eyes off it fully, its hooks biting deep. "They wouldn't want you to break yourself like this."

"Well, not really sure they'd even want anything do with me anymore, do we?" I regretted the words the moment they'd spilled forth, seeing the way she winced.

But it was true wasn't it? I couldn't save our friend. I'd all but led her to her death... Who would want a friend like me who'd sell out his own people?... Still, even if they wouldn't have me, I wouldn't let any harm come to them, Weiss included.

 _'I won't let this end like Pyrrha. Not again. Not when I can still do something. Not when I...'_

"Ah, Specialist Carson, sir. Miss Schnee."

I stiffened sharply, Weiss leaping back from me as if burnt, turning to glance at the slim, well-dressed figure of the gallery's curator cut into the conversation, hands behind his back, and a curious expression on his face as he looked from me the Bordeaux original. To _Maxine's_ original, I reminded myself with a flinch that didn't show on my face.

"Intrigued by the Bordeaux, are you?" He waved a hand broadly, motioning to a few of the more obvious elements, completely ignoring some of the more subtle additions that had the sadistic Faunus' mark all over them. "Fine eyes! Many comment on the fanciful cluttered interpretation of Mural's Festival of Lights in contrast with Madame Carmen Bordeaux's isolated lifestyle, her use of Dust grains a callback to the later works of Master Pascal Pastel, an artist famed for his..."

"So this painting's part of the auction, too?" I cut him off, feeling a momentary spark of the old satisfaction at seeing the annoyed flicker in his eye, and the irritation that I was too important to call out on it. Sometimes fame _did_ have its perks, it seemed. That, and the ear of Atlas' most powerful man. "Funny, seein' it shoved all the way back here."

"A-an oversight. Our intentions were to aid in the exposure of more... active creators." Oh, so the ones behind 'Grimm Smut' and the others paid more to have their stuff front and center? Made sense. "Bidding _is_ still available, of course. However, at this time..."

"So what's the current goin' bid on this piece?" I gestured towards the painting without even looking, the curator noting the quivering in my metal hand with some small apprehension. "Well, c'mon now. Speak up! Way you're puttin' it, I ain't got all day!"

The older man flinched back at the force behind the words, and so did Weiss and a few others close by. I didn't care much. I had more important things to concern myself with than being polite.

"Well, sir, this _is_ a Bordeaux original." He said it in the same know-it-all tone he'd used before, the same holier-than-thou attitude Weiss had shown in abundance towards the start of our time at Beacon easily apparent. Here was a man used to thinking he knew more, and was thus more important than most he talked to. An attitude I crushed with a single glower. "A-as one might expect of such a rarity, the bidding has been particularly fierce. Even more so, given her failing health. So much so, that I am..." The beady eyes marked out by status stared me up and down with the air of one used to such examinations, citing the way I stood, my drawl, and a hundred other factors, no doubt, "...uncertain it would be possible at this late a stage in the process for you to even consider..."

"What's the bid?" I repeated calmly and coolly, drawing my Scroll from my pocket like a pistol from its holster, slow and purposeful, with a glint in my eye that made the man shudder. Already dialing Echo's number, I dredged up old account numbers and secret deposits from the Carson Gang's more dubious exploits from memory. "'Cause whatever it is, I'm payin' _double._ "

* * *

 ** _-Joel Ambrose-_**

...There's this dream I've been having lately... It's different from the ones I usually get... A dream. An actual _dream..._ and not the usual nightmares of past mistakes ready and waiting. Not even the newer flashes of places and faces so familiar, yet so unrecognizable at the same time.

This was better. _Far_ better.

It starts so simply... I'm laying down by myself, alone, and on the grass. It's daytime, but the sun's not in my face. I'm in the shade, in the shadow of a large tree, its branches rustling gently in the wind, bark creaking subtly in a way few could hear.

Voices were echoing off to my right... A group of people sitting at an outdoor table, enjoying the weather. They're playing a board game, eating and laughing together. A girl in a red hood is eagerly munching on cookies with a crisp crunch, another attacking a stack of pancakes almost as tall as she was. The men were both blondes, one sporting knight's armor, the other a green poncho, goggles glinting above his eyes.

The game seemed to be getting intense, the hooded girl unveiling a trap with a triumphant cry, only for the poncho-wearing boy to sneak out a trap card of his own, killing her triumphant joy then and there.

There was even an audience to this spectacle. Over the shoulders of the ginger pancake girl was man with long black hair, and a magenta streak wearing green, and over the knight's shoulder stood a girl with red hair and green eyes wearing bronze armor, whispering encouragement and tactics. A smaller girl in purple wearing a skull Grimm mask over her lower face stood sentinel with the rogue, hands flashing between the pair, weaving signs through the air.

There were others with us, of course, but they were not partaking in the game, active or otherwise. A distinguished heiress bedecked in white, filing her nails, seemingly bored by the proceedings, and a girl with dog ears twitching atop her head, scribbling something in the sketchbook on her lap. A doodle of the events unfolding before her, no doubt, one that would be picture-perfect with her skill. On one of tree branches above her sat the last of our present group, black hair swaying in the breeze, a big black bow over her head, hiding what she really was to the world, her nose deep into the book, eyes skimming along its pages hungrily.

The girls and the blonde knight slunk in defeat, comical tears running down their faces. Meanwhile, the boy in the poncho reclines back in victory, hands moving behind his head, munching on a stolen cookie, much to Little Red's dismay.

Then, a voice calls out to us... to me. The last member of our group arrives.

I turned my head to watch as someone approached us, practically coming out of the sun's rays. A girl... A gorgeous, wonderful girl. She sported long mane of hair so blonde, so bright, you could say it was spun gold. Lilac-colored eyes were looking right at me, a beaming smile on her lips that was positively infectious.

She bent over slightly as soon as she arrived at my little haven, extending her right hand out to me, placing it over my chest. She knew I'd been waiting for her, and wanted us to go rejoin our friends together.

Reaching out, I firmly grasped her hand, holding it tightly as she pulled me up to my feet with surprising strength... Surprising if you didn't know her, anyway. Not even waiting for me to brush the grass stains, she wrapped her arms around me, pecking my cheek with a light giggle. Grinning, I returned the advance by wrapping my own arm around her waist, pecking her right back, unwilling to let her slip away without some retaliation.

Not that she minded much. She'd never said no to a good fight. Never the one to back down.

Putting our heated little bout on hold, we both made it to our friends - our loved ones - together, holding each other in our arms...

...And that's where the dream ends. When I wake up...

Sometimes, I wonder if that dream is actually a nightmare in disguise, taunting me with what I've... what _we've_ lost. With the simple truth that a day like that will never come again.

For one, it will never be all of us again. One of us perished in the heat of battle... Pyrrha, taken before her time. Caught up in some game I only half-believed in.

And that blonde girl... Yang, that ray of sunshine that shone down on me when I least expected it, let alone deserved it... She can't hold me in her arms ever again... She only had the one now...

The peace... The peace we all took for granted... was over.

...But then I ask myself this: was that peace really _ours?_

We relished in it, true. Lived in that time of ease, forging ourselves into powerful warriors for the future. But we'd never won that peace ourselves. That was won by those brave warriors that came before us. Those that trained us during that time of peace, preparing us for the tomorrow where we would all be tested.

And that time has come... Just sooner than we'd have wished.

Things would never be the same, I knew that no matter how much I hated to admit it. But that didn't mean things had to stay this way. We could find that semblance of quiet and normalcy again.

Our friend was gone, she wouldn't come back, but she would want us to win the fight that she fought and died for. To stand together against the darkness.

The blonde girl had only one arm, but that didn't mean we couldn't hold each other again. Even if I had to hold her tighter than before. I had to remember that, use it.

The old peace was over, and now was the time to fight for the new one. The one we're to fight and win. _Our_ peace.

All I needed to do now... was make sure our enemies _fall._

* * *

 **(Anima - Western Front)**

It was cold, bitterly so... It was made all the more evident by the small mist coming out of my mouth as I let out a deep exhale of breath.

More evidence was found in the arduous dry winds laced with sleet, tearing through the forest with enough force to rattle even my steadfast perch, and barely held at bay by the heavy cloak I wore draped across my shoulders, and the scarf tied across my face. Though, truth be told, I hardly even noticed its bite.

I'd endured worse than this breeze. _Far_ worse.

"...know that he trusts you. And I know that he loves you..." I sang softly under my breath, bobbing my head in time to the music playing through the buds in my ears, and ignoring my lack of tune. "...But somehow you convinced me again..." Brilliantly blue eyes scanned the far-off treeline, attempting to pierce the blizzard-born veil in search of my elusive target, seeking out the telltale sweep of massive wings, the burning crimson of a soulless pupil...

It was useless. Combined with the heavy snowfall and the wintry darkness obscuring what light remained in the sky above, seeing anything from this distance would have taken a miracle, or at the very least dumb luck. Never put much stock in the former, but as for the latter...

 _'...Come on out now.'_ My head twitched every now and then in response to flashes of movement, of shapes that could've been anything in that haze. All the while, tense fingers drummed idly on the frostbitten bark, their eagerness for action showing in the tiny flicker of cerulean sparks dancing across what flesh was visible. ' _Where are you?'_

"...Your heart's a vine that I've bled trying to climb... Yeah, you're making a ruin of me..." This was a far cry of an attempt so far, but as dumb luck would have it, I'd already wounded the creature, and badly. "Try to survive, keep my spirit alive..." I grinned, thinking about how close I'd come, my breath quickening along with my pulse, setting steam flowing freely along with the off tune lyrics.

It was hunting me, just as I was hunting it. A game. That's all this was... One I intended to win. My pride wouldn't allow for anything less.

 _'Huh... Since when did I start caring so much about things like that again?'_

"...But like a knife in the woods... Yeah, you hunt down the good in... me?" the song trailed off, my whole body stiffening as my head slowly turned, and a hand tugged the buds free, not even breathing.

Nothing moved in those few moments, even the wind had settled. The only noise audible was the creaking of settling brambles and ancient roots, and the music still flowing freely from the devices in my hands.

At least to most people, anyway...

"...Here we go again," I sighed wearily, standing slowly with effortless balance across the surface of the branch, cricking the bones in my neck with an audible * _pop_ * as sparks began to course along my skin in earnest, a wide grin forming beneath the hood.

Suddenly, without warning, I sprang into action, fist cracking against the tree trunk hard enough to rattle the ancient oak to the core, a pulse of screaming electrical Aura spreading outwards in a wave that charged the excited air, and left streaking flashes across my vision. It was a light discharge, built up over the course of the song, and more for show than anything else. The least it could do was maybe tickle, and at worst incite, which, of course, was exactly what I wanted.

From all sides, bark splintered with the emergence of several tittering multi-legged horrors still twitching as electricity coursed through their forms, each chitinous joint ending in a spear-like spur, fangs tasting the chilled air, eager for prey that, even now, fell through the air along with them, swinging and weaving through branches, crying out like a madman all the way.

One of their number was already slain, impaled on the end of a blue/silver spear that had seemingly appeared from nowhere, another falling towards snow-strewn ground a second later with a similarly alloyed bar stabbed into its eye, what passed for synapses already seared to a crisp by coruscating arcs of electrically-driven malice.

" _LET'S GO WILD!_ "

* * *

-END

* * *

 _ **A/N: Finally AMBR reunited again...in one chapter anyway. Joel Ambrose is officially back in the picture everyone, hope he's been missed.**_

 _ **Song Joel was singing is 'The Good in Me' by Jon Bellion, pretty much the song in my head for the JoelXLiz relationship. Gotta give it to 'Overloaded' by Dillon Francis for Joel & Yang though, lot more innocent I think, maybe something from Mystery Skulls...**_

 _ **Anyway, hope y'all are enjoying the story so far and feel free to leave questions and comments, every note helps. - Mojo**_

* * *

 _ **(Next Chapter: The Hunt Begins)**_


	8. Chapter 8

**Edited as of (9/16/19)**

 **PB: Da-Awesom-One**

* * *

THE LETTER

* * *

 _-_ _ **Joel Ambrose-**_

 _Yang,_

 _I wanted to start this off by apologizing for the constant barrage of letters you've been getting, or at least I think you are, anyway. I can only hope that most of them are actually reaching you all the way back on Patch. Hardly ideal, I know. But with_ _the CCT as it is_ _, I just thought..._

* * *

 _'No, scratch that last bit...'_

Even now, months after it had all went down, the thoughts of what had happened atop that tower, the people we'd lost, all of it only served to dredge up sour memories from the ashes. Memories of our fight with crimson-eyed monsters and machines, both working to tear down everything we'd come to take for granted. Flashes of a city I'd grown to love in flames, spurred on by men wearing the faces of monsters.

One monster in particular stood so arrogantly tall, bloodied sword in hand, a cruel smirk on his face...

 _' **Adam Taurus...** '_

Just the thought of him standing there, looming over the blonde Huntress as if he hadn't just changed her life forever... _By her blood,_ it was enough to make me want to _tear_ that rabid, beast-born animal _limb_ from _bloody, **screaming**_...

 _NO..._ No. Not now.

It was probably best not to get specific on the details. It wouldn't help, and would serve to only bring back bad times, end of story.

Focus on the now... Focus on the mission at hand...

* * *

 _But **with**_ _ **everything** **that's happened**_ ** _i_** _ **n the past few months** ,_ _I just thought that if I sent off as many of these as I could manage, at least one of them was bound to reach you eventually. Sadly, there isn't a whole lot of people still willing to relay messages in person these days, at least here where I'm at now, anyway._

 _I know you have questions, but I still can't say anything more on that front, at least not yet. That's gotta be annoying for you, and I'm sorry I can't tell you more. Just know that the weather's nice, and I'm doing my best to keep myself out of trouble._

* * *

 _''Out of trouble?' **Hardly...** Now, then, where'd you g...!?'_

Sudden movement in the snow beside me caught my attention, body already rolling to duck to the side on reflex, avoiding the sweeping arc of another chitin-plated limb by a hair's breadth before my mind could properly catch up with the action. The spider-like Grimm hissed its frustration aloud, the attempt at a surprise attack thudding into the wet slush and dirt right between my boots.

Of course, it hadn't given up hope. Not by a long shot, already scrambling back on its hind legs for another go in a spray of cold crystal shards.

An Arachne, or so my people referred to this particular breed of Grimm. Roughly half the size of a Beowolf at their base level, but twice as smart. The Insectoid Grimm was also equipped with eight armored limbs that could see it flying into the air and upon its prey in an instant. Its front pair sharpened wickedly into scythe-like appendages, each capable of easily butchering said victim apart in seconds.

Fearsome beasts, and deadly in large numbers like these...

This creature, however, didn't even manage two tittering 'steps' before I snapped back into action in a single exhaled breath, tugging _Storm Song's_ silver spear point from the thorax of another similar beast before it could even fully dissipate with a wet * _CRACK*_ of exoskeleton, and a spinning twist that whistled through the air.

One that sent the spiked butte of the plated spear careening into the side of my would-be attacker's head. My weapon impacted with enough sheer force to pop a few of its glowing crimson eyes in their sockets, and send the screeching thing careening through the trunk of a nearby tree, sliding down to the exposed roots below, unresponsive and already dissolving.

 _'Not yet. Not yet...'_ I fought back the smug rush of pride, maintaining momentum, weapon never halting, even for an instant. _'Who's next_ _!?...'_

With the near half dozen or so others skittering about surrounding me in an effort to close off my escape, it wasn't as if I could properly savor my victory for long, an appraising glance merely confirming the Arachne was taken care of before I was spinning once more with a sweep of my cloak, and the fluttering tails of the cerulean scarf underneath, forearm rising to catch the descending swipe of its mandible, the limb grinding the hardened blue and matte grey surface of my jacket's sleeve in a shower of sparks and Aura, leaving nary a mark in its wake across the reactive fiber, and my own flickering Aura.

Mentally thanking Taiyang Xiao Long for what seemed like the hundredth time since I'd first put it on, I struck outward, _Storm Song_ practically living up to its name as its length ratcheted back in and out of itself to form a short silver sword that circled artfully in my grip, carving through the Grimm's exoskeleton like a hot knife through butter in a single humming arc that trailed electrically-charged air in its wake.

Again, there was no time to admire my handiwork, my legs carrying me in a jumping flip to slide down a snow-packed ridge, intercepting one of the Arachne leaping at me along the way, bisecting it neatly with a short spinning leap, and carving a gaping furrow into the cold ground with another as I rode it down the rest of the way, spear lodged deep in its back, its body dissolving at my feet with a sharp twist.

 _'Keep going forward!... Don't stop! **Never** stop!'_

I wrenched the weapon free from the ground in a spray of dirt-strewn debris and glittering icicles, spinning it in lighting quick motions, ready to intercept and finish the next, and the next, and the next... Ducking past sweeping limbs, rolling under leaping foes, _Storm Song's_ inner working sparked white hot with the speed at which I ran through form after flowing form, ears ringing with the sound of grinding gears and hissing screeches from the throats of expiring Grimm.

Ruby Rose's artifice handled the strain beautifully, effortlessly silencing monster after monster without fail, each shift seamless...

And not just that, my hands and Semblance also worked wonders, snatching hold of an offending Grimm by the joint, the beast loosing a hissing howl as it sizzled and fell before I carried it over my shoulder, and smashed it into the ground with a hearty crunch of exoskeleton.

"C'mon! That all you got!?"

Or so I'd meant to say, clapping a fist to my jacketed chest between excited breaths, feeling the pulse of both Hearts keenly with a broad snarling smile. That of the organ drumming in my ribcage, and the one embedded in my weapon falling into sync, pushing me further and further on.

 _"Lusa! Lusa oui Cuimmacc clis!"_ were the words that truly spilled from my lips. " _Vyla ouin taydrc!"_

It felt right, somehow. And what discomfort I did feel at the slip was soon well and truly lost in the thrilling rush of the fight...

Those of the remaining cluster which survived the onslaught backed off warily, leaping about from tree to snowy ground and back again, weaving circles in their formation, trying to distract me, draw my attention to one while the others struck.

Such a move might have even worked on someone else. Someone who didn't have almost instinctive experience enduring large numbers, or couldn't pick out each target with every crunch of bark, or shift of settling snow. Someone whose sword wasn't there in flash of silver, and the rustle of a cloak to block every attempt, taking a limb in its place for the crime of even trying...

Knives flew, Grimm fell, I laughed...

 _'Need to hurry this along. Not much time left...'_ The sun was setting in earnest now. Any longer and my true target would give up the chase.

Heedless of my own constraints, the Arachne learned fast after two fell down to try and take me at once, a circular cut putting four separate pieces on the ground in hazy piles of dissolving dark matter. The remainder hung back, seeking an opening I wasn't too keen to give them.

 _'Fine, then. If they don't want to come to **me,** I'll just find a way to come to **them.** '_

Bringing my arm back with a sharp jerk, _Storm Song_ whirred gently as the thin silver saber retracted in a series of sharp Clicks. The Archane hissed in furious glee, no doubt thinking I was about to try and retreat.

Smart beasts, but not _that_ smart, however...

I weaved sharply, weapon rising with a blinding speed to track the path of an oncoming Arachne. A single second to grin and press the last switch before suddenly a silver spike, trailing a fine silvery line of wire in its wake, sped forth with a barely audible hiss, and striking like lightning in the center of the monster's shrieking form. Its body broke apart a moment later in a rush of blue-tinged sparks that crackled vibrantly through the cool air.

Not done yet - not by a long shot - I pulled the spiked line back once more, limbs twisting in a steady march to keep the now electrically-tinged whip in motion, allowing for no opening except for those I allowed, spinning and advancing in time with the whip. My arms and weapon were both in constant motion, dodging probing limps and chitinous blades, with my feet deftly skirting the ground in plumes of icy dust.

 _'Now this is the sort of dancing I can manage...'_

I laughed in absurd amazement as weeks of practice finally paid off in spades, side-stepping a stream of bubbling acidic webbing from one monster, and backhanding another I'd allowed to come close in the same motion, heart thundering as I felt chitin give way beneath my Aura-clad fist, driving it bodily into the ground under the weight of sheer adrenaline-fueled strength and its own momentum.

Only three remained now... unwilling to retreat. Just how I preferred it, allowing the silver length of the whip to go slack in my hands for but a moment.

 _'Now, lets see if practice makes perfect.'_

The first predictably took the bait almost immediately, charging in a rapid, clicking advance head on when it seemed I had to draw back, only to dissolve in a crumbled heap as the silver spike head came out of nowhere with a flick of my arm to tear right through the legs along its right side. The second fell a moment later, the top half of its body sheared away by a humming silvery wire, broken shards of fading darkness trailing in its wake.

The final Arachne saw its own desperate opportunity in its brothers' demise, taking to the air, and coming at me at once from behind.

The last thing it saw was a crooked, pearly white smirk over my shoulder, a finger snatching forth to clutch towards the base of the whip, altering the whip's flailing trajectory precisely in moments with a cracking * _snap._ *

The Soulless beast had but a moment to register what had just happened before the full force of the silver braided wire tore it cleanly in two, its essence splattering against the trees in a caustic smelling mess...

* * *

 _Of course, you know how it goes. No matter how much I tell you not to worry, chances are I'll still throw myself right back into the frying pan, despite my best efforts._

* * *

"Come on, you stupid bird. I know you're out th... _Ach!_ "

Another ear-splitting caw cut through the crisp air, and killed the words in my throat. Carried ever further by the screaming winds and whistles hitting my eardrums so hard, I stumbled mid-sprint into the knee-deep snow.

Gritting my teeth, fighting to keep myself balanced despite disorientation, I moved on. Ignorant of the specks of ice and snow snapping against my Aura, or catching in the folds of my cloak and hood.

As it stood, I barely managed to catch myself even then, bursting shoulder-first through a copse of low-hanging brambles, and into the fading sunlight, or what little of it there was showing through this blizzard, which wasn't saying much by any wide margin. I was barely able to see a foot in front of me in either direction, almost stumbling headlong into trees and low branches, not to say the least of thorn-coated bushes and overgrown roots concealed beneath the blanket of white.

Still, I should have been grateful. If I couldn't see anything through this mess, chances were good my quarry couldn't either.

 _'Or am I **its** quarry?... Good question...' _Not one I knew the answer to, unfortunately.

Ahead, I could just make out the sight of a snow-covered jagged outcropping through the mess of bone-chilling mist and flecks of ice whirling about, a distinct point that jutted out like a narrow spear from the ridge line proper. A meager strip of somewhat solid ground overlooked the vast forests and swamps below, no doubt teeming to the brim with Soulless beasts, what with the current state of the world.

Anima, in all its scenic beauty, almost made me feel like I was back home in the Frontier. Less floating mountains of course, more ground shattering quakes and roaming wildlife... but the similarities held.

Probably would prefer it, actually. Spring should just be hitting out there. And once you get passed the horde of armed fanatics, brutal terrorists, and an estranged, megalomaniac uncle that all but wanted me dead or worse...

By her blood, what was I _thinking?_

 _'Keep your focus...'_ I chided myself, closing my eyes to the maelstrom, and focusing my concentration and Aura.

Listening beyond the whipping winds and rustling sway of branches hanging around in thorny clumps, over the mad drumming tempo of my own heart forcing blood throughout my veins in a feverish attempt at keeping me warm and moving, pulse echoing in my ears, searching for the slightest sign of...

 _' **...Aha!** There you are!'_

It was faint, almost indistinguishable in the whipping chaos of the environment, but it _was_ there. The steady beating of massive wings, my pursuer back on my trail once more, no doubt frustrated after I'd given it the slip in the forests minutes earlier.

Another deafening screech rippled through the evening sky, reverberating through the air, rattling my bones to the marrow...

* * *

 _On that vein, I've definitely stumbled across a few new recipes I'm sure would bring tears to Ruby's eyes if she knew I'd been practicing. Can't really send anything along with this, but I hope she's managing alright with that store-bought junk. I know I spoiled her a bit on the homemade front._

 _And that's not all. I wish I could send you pictures of where I'm at, Yang, or at least go into a bit more detail. You deserve that much, and every day, I just keep finding more and more things I wish you could see._

 _That I'll be sure to show you, and maybe everyone else, once things are back to normal._

* * *

The Nevermore - a rather big one, at that - was far larger than any other I'd ever seen, with a wingspan that blotted out the meager patches of sunlight in shadow, with a beak shaped to tear me limb from limb with ease, talons the length of my forearm that could shear a Paladin machine just as easily.

And that was all just at a glance, one that made this whole mad plan of mine seem even more foolhardy than it had before I'd journeyed out today.

It wanted me, that much I had little doubt of, if for no other reason than to assuage its wounded pride.

This Grimm was the alpha predator in this region of the countryside. 'An untouchable tyrant of the skies,' according to those who'd posted the job. One that had wreaked bloody havoc on the terrified vestiges of Mankind that called it home, and one of them had injured it. It had born witness to the foolhardy Human leaving the high walls and relative safety of its fellows' settlement, venting its emotions in a clearing far beyond what would have been considered sensible.

A veritable well of delectable negativity and frustration. An intoxicating scent too obvious to miss, and impossible to ignore.

Its fellow Soulless had been tempted, surely, eager to pounce on such a rare morsel that, by all appearances, was as good as offering itself to them up on a silver platter, whatever dark instinct driving them urging the monsters to strike. But they had not, cowed in the face of the Nevermore approaching, staking its claim to the young man.

It was master here, and though it was old and intelligent enough to feel a momentary flicker of hesitation - of unease at the thought of an ambush - it only disregarded the notion a moment later.

The venerable beast was Bane of the Skies. This was its domain.

What could one meager Human, even those curious warriors that trained to fight those of its kind with the strength of their souls, hope to accomplish all alone, with no others of its breed to support him?

Oh... The Grimm had learned the answer to that particular question _quite_ quickly, indeed.

Gliding down on updrafts, the monster flew, silent as sin, aiming to swoop down and snatch its prey up tight in its talons, and carve the Human to bloody ribbons before it could even react, let alone summon the barrier that made its paltry kind so difficult to slay.

Such tactics had seen dozens of hunting parties and attempts to clear the forests ended before they'd truly begun, and this new interloper would prove to be no different. The Nevermore had evidently been very confident of that.

So when the Human had managed to, somehow, and with speed that defied decades of experience on his kind, leap aside at just the right moment to avoid a swift death in the Grimm's grasp, the massive avian beast was, of course, surprised.

Surprise that swiftly turned to raging disbelief as the Human warrior twisted in midair with a sweeping flourish of its broad cloak, its arm striking out to loose the briefest flashes of silver surrounded by azure sparks that seared themselves into the Grimm's two right eyes before all vision was extinguished in a pain sharper than any it had known in the course of its long existence. Burning, white hot pain, crackling energy dragging across its nerves like razors, jolting muscles threatening to bring it down then and there.

Its great feathered form clipped the treetops as it passed low, loosing a baffling screech of force that shook every tree for miles around. And once it righted itself to some degree and circled around, I was already gone, not having expected a few knives and a charge from my Semblance to do much much more than piss it off. At least not to something that large, and at that distance... but a guy could hope.

Still, the attack accomplished what it had been intended to do, and drew its attention. Now all that mattered was luring it to the predetermined spot, and...!?

I swore fiercely and ducked forward, shielding myself even as I ran. Great black feathers dark as night and taller than I was crashed down around me like jagged pillars, throwing up stone and snow with enough force to tear my hood back and expose long chestnut-colored bangs loose, framing the cheeks, hair reaching down to the back of my neck, and fluttering about my face freely.

All thought of stealth or catching me unawares had fled the one-sided two-eyed bastard's thoughts, it seemed, my body turning to take in the sight of the massive bird sweeping down from overhead in a low dive, forcing me back with nowhere else to go but the steep drop behind me. Its wingspan encompassed the cliff side, with nowhere to run or to avoid its attack.

 _'I hate Nevermores. Always something... What a pain.'_

The flying vulture wanted me to stand and fight, or to cower in terror, believing me trapped, with no escape in sight. And again, it was surprised, a ragged laugh escaping my lips as I fell backwards over the edge in an Aura-fueled jump into nothingness, with only the carpet of frost-tipped forests and swamps spread out beneath me. I felt the currents of air ripple past me, with the great Grimm only inches above me.

 _'Falling for the same trick twice? Now that's just **sad,** even for a Grimm...'_

The thought put a smile on my face beneath the scarf I wore, even with my ears deafened and freezing in the face of the biting winds, my body tumbling end over end. With only seconds to act, I had to move quickly, or I really might be in trouble.

With practiced ease, I balanced out in the air, falling backwards to give me a clear view of the monster's curving around, its two eye swiveling in their sockets, catching sight of me just in time to see my hand close around the haft of a blue and silver baton rattling at my waist. The weapon whirred to expose a long silver spike, an inset crystal of pale, glowing white dappled with stars of blue shining like a beacon in the night.

 _The Heart of Rowan._ Heirloom of my people, and the last gift my grandfather had bestowed upon me before setting out on this mad quest.

 _'Damn... This is gonna hurt, I just know it.'_

And I was right; it did. Even so, I depressed the switch, knowing it would hurt my prey a hell of a lot more in the long run.

Holding the weapon out before me towards the Nevermore, I grinned as the spike fired outward with a crack of sparkling force, trailing a thin silvery line behind it, angling about the Alpha's neck, and pulling tight with a loud _*CRACK*_ that echoed through the air, even above the whirlwind. A great shot - an expert one - implemented with perfection. Only problem was, gravity still factored in, and the sheer force of the tether going taut almost ripped my arm clean off in its bid to drag me along for the ride.

As it stood, I gasped and held firm with a ragged gasp, shoulder damn near pulled from its socket, straining muscles burning with acidic fury, but I endured even so. More over, I pulled back, the line giving a stuttering whine of sparks in its attempt to close the distance between me and the now panicking Grimm thrashing about above.

Again, Ruby's genius saved my life...

Meter by anguished meter I climbed, dodging and weaving through flashing talons, many passing close enough to clip hairs as they passed or scattered motes of Aura. But I endured, _Storm Song_ juddering and screaming in my grasp the whole way until I was close enough to gaze at the wide crimson pools of the Soulless bird's remaining eyes, planting my feet firmly at the base of its neck and snatching hold of another piece of the line, anchoring myself, perching above its head as if I were its rider. And I would be, at least for a short while.

Now that the hard part was done, I needed something to cushion my fall. Funny, really. It was just like Ozpin had said so long ago back before Initiation.

It's all about the landing strategy.

 _'Guess it's good to know at least some lessons stuck...'_

With a triumphant outcry, I pulled on both ends of the tether as hard as I could, looping the length of silvery wire around my forearms, and bringing all my strength both soulful and natural to bear in an attempt to choke the life from the Grimm.

The move cut off its flow of oxygen with a short-lived squawk that could've almost been funny, if it didn't feel like my arms would break under the strain, knees aching with the effort of holding on, feet threatening to slip on the sleek, ice-caked feathers, and send me careening off the side for a short trip down to the ground.

And yet, I was loving every godsdamned second of it... Funny how that worked out.

Veins and tendons bulged along what flesh I'd left exposed, teeth grinding and chattering with the effort of building a storm inside my being. The crystal embedded in my weapon was almost blinding now in its intensity, its touch fueling my Aura, bolstering the soul fueled within. For several long, agonizing heartbeats, I held back the flow of power until it felt like I'd honestly burst apart from the crackling thrum contained by my rib cage, nerves blazing so hot, I swore I steamed from the effort, my body on fire.

Just a few seconds more... and then I let it go with a thunderclap of sudden electrical discharge that lit up the sky a brilliant, all-consuming blue for the briefest instant, the sound echoing through the woods. Many trees shivered and shook, their snowy caps blasted to hissing steam.

The Nevermore, for its part, bucked wildly under the dual onslaught both physical and elemental, muscles spasming as what passed for its synapses misfired again and again, its nervous system burning. Literally, I could smell the scent of seared Grimm hitting my nostrils, the crimson orbs of its twin eyes sizzling and smoking.

Some might call this cruel, but from what I understood, this Nevermore had been terrorizing the countryside for at least a decade, if not much longer, attacking who knows how many people along the roads. Many of whom never returned home.

No, I certainly wasn't going to lose sleep over it.

Loosing one last piteous wail, the avian creature went slack and began to fall in a graceless dive, the wind pulling at its limp pinions, and managing to slow our shared descent, somewhat, though not by much.

Wind and snow whipped at my face, hair flying free of its binding and streaming back alongside the trailing ends of the loosened scarf and cloak I bore, pulling at me, threatening to tear me into the cold night, the only thing preventing it a rictus grip on the handle of my weapon by numbed fingers. If anything, I was unsure as to whether I was actually hanging on by sheer force of will or dumb luck at this point.

Not sure I really wanted to know the answer.

Our actual landing itself was a long, drawn out affair, made all the worse by the fact that the Nevermore's sheer bulk meant that at this speed, little was going to be able to stop it. Not the trees that it smashed to timber, branches, nor the treetops exploding into showers of splinters and permafrost that tore at my Aura, but thankfully didn't penetrate... _much._ The impacts, however, hit like hammer blows from an Ursa, and I was certain I'd have been covered head to toe in bruises if it weren't for the miraculous power of my soul.

 _'Didn't mean it doesn't hurt, though.'_

Unfortunately, or fortunately, depending on how one saw it, _Storm Song's_ rip line was finally jostled loose just before the final bouncing collision with the ground, and I was thrown clear of the Grimm, only a lucky flicker in the dim light and quick jerk of the head managing to keep it on my shoulders as the silvery tether was drawn back along its circuit, flashing and cracking like a serpent with enough force to tear chunks of what trees I didn't slam through on my own way to the ground.

Which didn't feel like many, seeing as I must have collided with just about every branch in this damned region in the course of seconds.

As luck would have it - again, which kind depended pretty heavily on how you looked at it - rather than hit the cold winter ground as I'd expected, I landed back-first in a small pond most of the way through its spring thaw.

My bulk and momentum easily shattered the wafer-thin coating of ice, and forced its way deep into the freezing cold water beneath.

Not exactly the best cushion, seeing as the sudden biting cold and distinct lack of oxygen almost did me in right then and there. The traveling cloak billowed about, smothering me in darkness as I sank ever deeper, thrashing about in an attempt to free myself, unsure of what was up or down. Sparks juddered through the water, arcing out across my form, setting me reeling.

So cold... So _very_ cold.

But I _was_ alive...

 _'As long as I was alive, we could endure... Wait... **We?** No, I... I meant... Wait, what?...'_

* * *

 _Anyway, long story short, I've got a lot to show you guys once I'm back. Even started making this little list in my head, actually. Silly, I know, but it helps some days to keep a goal in mind in the face of everything. I hope your dad's driving that lesson home for you just as much he did for me._

 _No luck on my search just yet, dead end after dead end. But I haven't given up hope of finding what I'm looking for. Of bringing our friends back. Of coming home._

 _Just a bit longer, Yang. I promise. Just a bit longer._

 _Stay safe, Sunshine._

 _\- With love, Joel_

* * *

With a desperate broken gasp, I broke through the surface of the pond, coughing and spluttering, the ravaged cloak discarded. When I'd managed that exactly, I couldn't quite be sure. Everything after we'd hit the treeline was sort of a manic blur of blinding impacts, spinning colors, and flailing limbs.

All that mattered was getting out of the water, and getting warm again. Cold... So godsdamned _cold...!_

The numbed fingers of one hand scrabbled forth desperately, while the other remained wrapped around the length of my compressed weapon in a rigid claw. Finally finding purchase on an outstretched root, I pulled, one breath at a time, dragging myself from the pool on elbow and knees to collapse against the muddy shore, coughing out lungfuls of water.

All I could do at that moment consisted of dripping and shivering, at least until I let loose another powerful burst from my Semblance, electricity dancing across my spasming limps and into the snowy dirt, sending up steam from the pond and surrounding snow before blowing outwards with a * _crack_ * like a thunderclap.

I laughed then, half-deafened as I was. And how could I not? I was alive.

Not that I wasn't entirely comfortable, mind you. My whole body ached like one massive bruise, feeling like as if I'd just been flash-fried. Steam billowed copiously off the material of my jacket and hair in curling waves of...

Wait, my hair!

 _'Blast it!'_

I shot upright with a hiss of strained muscles, shaking my head out like a dog sending what traces of water and dirt that still remained flying everywhere, eyes narrowing as I plucked at a long strand of mid-length hair hanging in front of my face rebelliously, the once chestnut brown now smoking from the electrically-charged temperature, the dye marring its surface running through my fingers to reveal the stark white beneath, a scene no doubt playing across the rest of my scalp. I scowled, shaking my head, and staggering awkwardly to my feet, rubbing at my sore forehead.

That was both unexpected and irritating. I'd have to dye it again before heading back, which meant scraping through bushes trying to find berries that had grown in early before the thaw. Either that, or I'd have to go diving for what remained of the cloak once more, and hope it survived the worst of the fall.

Looking back at the dark murk bubbling behind me, I decided wholeheartedly that it wasn't worth the trouble. After all, my own blue and matte grey biker's jacket had a hood... How had I forgotten that? Probably still feeling the shock of the cold still. I let another pulse of electricity run through me for good measure.

Schooling my emotions back into some level of calm, just as I'd been taught, I then collapsed, hands out at my sides and laughed. A low, building chuckle spilled from my lips, aching chest heaving, sheer mirth at surviving that idiotic stunt. I couldn't help myself.

Wouldn't do to finish off one Grimm only to draw another, after all. Blasted monsters...

 _'Speaking of which...'_

* * *

I found the Nevermore easily enough, the massive trail it had left behind in the wake of its own crash landing easy enough to follow. Remarkably, it was still alive, stirring weakly, though I could tell it was already beginning the process of dissolving.

Many of its wounds were smoking, releasing a foul stench in the air that had me covering my nose with Yang's gift, eyes narrowing as I brought _Storm Song_ to bear one last time, at least for this Grimm.

That was the problem with Grimm. Take down one, and ten more take its place. It was the same conundrum every Huntsman and Huntress serving on the face of Remnant faced. The hopelessness of that belief...

 _'But at least this one won't be among them...'_

The shifting weapon whirred softly, extending into the silver razor sharp saber once more, blade humming gently. The _Heart of Rowan_ pulsed fiercely, the beat somehow in tempo with the drum beat contained in my own chest, even now.

I wasn't entirely certain how I knew this, but I did, the feeling of the raw, ambient energy the strange Dust mechanism siphoned off and fed back to me was almost intoxicating. Blue motes dotted its surface, shifting like comets across its shimmery pale face in a mad, winding dance...

 _' **Focus...!** '_

The Soulless monster, enemy of Mankind, lay at my feet. Its single remaining eye stared blindly up at me, the other likely having been ruptured. It watched helplessly as I, the Huntsman, brought up my sword, just like the ending of every great tale, blade raised high, and glinting in the light shining through the clouds, and with its own innate luster.

" _Gar akaanir cuyir ahtat.._." I said softly, not sure where the words of the Old Tongue came from, or why I drew on them, only that they sounded right for the moment.

The Nevermore, Bane of the Skies, managed to voice a single gurgling screech just before I drove the blade down with all my strength.

The monster was silenced in one fell swoop...

* * *

 _P.S: I hate to admit this, but I never thought I would miss your puns so much. This is all your fault, getting me used to your lame sense of humor. I expect you to take responsibility for this, so I'd better hear some good ones the next time I see you. - Sparky_

* * *

-END

* * *

 **-Primer-**

 **Lusa! Lusa oui Cuimmacc** **clis** **! -** Come! Come you Soulless scum!

 **Vyla ouin taydrc!** \- Face your deaths!

 **Gar akaanir cuyir ahtat -** Your fight is ended.

* * *

 **A/N: Kind of imagined Joel's new hairstyle is somewhat similar Old Noctis' in FFXV or Trevor Belmont's from Netflix's Castlevania, if a bit longer even. That move he pulled with the whip was similarly drawn from that series, good show. Not for the kids though, and I wish it was longer.**

 **He's back in truth now and as you can hopefully see he hasn't been idle over the last few months. Lot of fun plans for him, well not 'fun', but hopefully entertaining.**

* * *

 **(Next Chapter: Joel enjoys the simple life. Kind of...)**


	9. Chapter 9

_**Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_

* * *

THE RUSTIC LIFE

* * *

 _ **-Joel Ambrose-**_

 _ ***...Thunk...!***_

Twin slabs of timber tumbled to the snow on either side of the knotted trunk in a spray of splinters, all still trembling from the force of the blow that had sundered them apart.

Bringing my arm back with a forceful pull and a grunt of effort, I dislodged the ax from the wood and brought it back to rest on a broad shoulder, kicking the freshly cut lumber into the growing pile before reaching for the next, and the next, and the next...

 ** _*Thunk...!* *Thunk...!*_**

It was like a pattern; a song. The ax rose and fell to the steady beat set by the music playing in my head, keeping me in time, or attempting to, anyway.

Every so often, the hissing impact of steel whistling through wood would hit just out of key, movements a hair too slow or too fast, a breath skipped or too much force applied. Every error disrupted the rhythm, forcing me to work harder to find it once more, falling back into step within moments.

 ** _*Thunk...!* *Thunk...!* *Thunk...!*_**

I remembered the errors, and sought to do better, just like I'd been taught.

Even as the muscles in my arms and shoulders began to burn with that familiar acidic fire, the heat of exposed skin meeting the cool air, heart pounding to the beat of the internal tempo, I kept moving forward through the motions with almost mechanical zeal.

Place the timber. Raise the ax high overhead. Swing down with just the right amount of strength. Kick the pieces, and start again. Place. Raise. Swing. Kick. And so it went, again, and again, and again...

 ** _*Thunk...!* *Thunk...!* *THUNK...!*_**

Place. Raise. Swing. Kick... Place. Raise. Swing. Kick... Place. Raise. Swing. Kick...

It was a dull, methodical cycle. Requiring no thought beyond the steps, no effort beyond what was absolutely necessary. Just what I needed, what with my Scroll temporarily out of commission after my unscheduled dive the day before, something to replace the usual music or the chaotic clarity fighting provided.

Something to distract me from everything that was happening... or the lack of anything at all, more like.

Just how long I'd been out here, running through the pattern over and over, I had no idea. Hours, minutes, it made no difference when I lost myself, shadows lengthening along the ground as the sun traveled the skies above the village.

Akai-Hana, a sizable if remote settlement located along the outermost fringes of Mistral's border, consisting of a few dozen red painted buildings held together with spit and polish, and maintained by a meager if hardy population of a couple hundred. And I said that generously.

It was barely even a blip on the map, certainly none I'd ever seen. Only connected to the Kingdom it supposedly helped comprise by virtue of the occasional letter or communique. With the loss of the CCT, that small link had faded, leaving the village isolated and seemingly cut off from the rest of the world.

The recitation of information helped. It kept me focused. Kept me from getting antsy.

 _'A perfect place to hide away. A reprieve, a sanctuary... So why am I so...?'_

My fingers dug into the haft of the ax, digging deep smoking furrows and long cracks in the wood surface. I was a Huntsman, and before that a Trapper... I wasn't meant to sit still. I wasn't made for it.

I needed a job, a mission, an objective to work towards. Hell, I craved it.

I knew what this was, deep down. The same irritation that had dogged me since Marigold had gone on ahead.

It made sense at the time. She could move faster on her own. If anyone could track down leads to our quarry, it would be her. I accepted that, if begrudgingly. I wasn't all too happy with it, admittedly, but with the way things were with Liz...

"Thom? Thom, are you out...? _Thom_! What on Remnant...!?"

The interruption split the pattern like a crack from _Storm Song's_ whip, putting me back a step away from the now thoroughly-savaged log, and the veritable hill of firewood far larger now than when I'd begun. So large, I was a little put off I hadn't noticed it earlier.

 _'Spacing out again. Damn it...'_

Resting the hefty woodcutter's ax off to the side, I wiped at my sweat-drenched brow with a thick woolen sleeve, brushing stray chestnut-dyed bangs from my eyes.

The speaker in question was an older matronly woman, stern amber-colored eyes framed by russet hair schooled back into a messy bun staring at me from a kind face barely touched by time-worn lines.

Unfortunately, she wasn't looking so "kind" at the moment, I noticed with an audible gulp. Long-nailed hands perched at the hips of her long amber-colored dress, tapping gently across the folds of a stained apron, fox-like ears twitching atop her head as clear a sign as any at her displeasure.

"Oh... Um..."

"Look at you... By the gods, boy! Don't tell me _this_ is what you've been up to this whole time!? There must be...!" The Faunus lost her words, striding over to stare at the pile as if she couldn't believe her eyes. Admittedly, I'd collected a lot to start, and cut a sizable portion besides, though, truth be told, I still felt like I was just getting started.

If one was gonna do a job, might as well be thorough. Do it right.

I kind of wanted to chuckle at the disbelief present in her voice, but long experience held my tongue, my only response being to lower my head with a self-conscious air, hand reaching back to scratch my neck idly.

"Well, Miss Anbā, I overheard, er... I mean, I remembered you mentioning the _Fox_ was gonna run out this week if nothing was done." Tacking on a shrug, I kicked the last of the timber pieces in a perfect practiced arc to join the others, and motioning to the venerable but well-kept building hanging behind her, larger by far than most others in sight and ringed with Amber colored lanterns that burned dimly in the fading winter light. "Just thought I'd help out a bit before my shift, is all." I grinned sheepishly. "Guess I just lost track of time."

"An understatement if I've ever heard one. We'll probably last the rest of the year off this mess, at least." The Innkeeper shook her head in undisguised exasperation and amazement at my morning's work, smiling despite herself regardless. That was much better than anger, by far. "And after you dragged yourself back from the wilds yesterday, too. By the gods, boy, how are you even still standing?"

Now "dragged" was a bit harsh. "Limped" was maybe a bit more accurate.

 _'Guess passing out at the gate didn't leave the best impression...'_ My mouth opened to voice a reply. How exactly, I wasn't quite sure. A joke, I supposed, maybe some comment about my training, or something vague and generic to appease her. Something "Thomas Braun," vagrant Huntsman, would say.

Thankfully, I was saved the effort of figuring out an excuse when Miss Anbā merely waved a dismissive hand with a heady sigh, motioning for me to follow along in her wake, sharp amber-eyed glare more than enough to override my hesitation with a bit of a skip in my step.

Shrugging, I spared a few last fleeting moments staring at the pile I'd made before leaving the curved blade embedded in the stump, jogging after the marching Faunus just as she was about to cross the threshold into the store room, and soon into the bustling common space further beyond. The sounds of singing, laughter, and merriment were easily detectable as I reached for the length of dull silvery thread tied off at my wrist.

"The usual rabble I drum up would be on the ground twice over with a fraction of the effort," Anbā fussed, a small quirk crossing her lips at the sight of me schooling the hair on most of my scalp back into a passable Hund's tail, or a "ponytail," as it was alternatively referred to here in the Kingdoms. Had to be careful there, not to give myself away.

Personally, I liked the Frontier's version better though. I'd seen horses in action, but I wasn't impressed. At least when compared to the canine beasts of my homeland.

"And none of those louts have ever had to deal with slaying a Nevermore beforehand, or fix the boiler, or- _Ah-ah-ah-ah!_ Boots off, you know the rules!" She snapped her fingers tersely with a twitch of her vulpine ears, the offending articles practically flying in my haste to kick them off, slipping on a pair of light sandals in there place. "Good lad. Now, as I was saying, you're _supposed_ to be in bed resting up. Can't have you falling asleep on your feet, after all. It's bad for business."

"I can handle it, promise," I reassured her cheerily, eyeing the worn apron hanging off a rack nearby. "Besides, it feels nice to keep busy. Helps pay you back for taking us in the way you did."

* * *

 _"Liz! Hey!... Hey, come on, stay with me!... Liz!? **Elizabeth!** "_

 _It was cold... Freezing, actually. A foul winter's night, with even fouler weather to match._

 _And despite that, despite the dagger-like chill that stabbed at exposed flesh and raining sleet that soaked through my gear straight down to the bone, I felt hot. Burning, actually, pulse pounding over the rush of blood in my ears, both my own and that of the young woman draped over my shoulder, wrapped up in a thick tarp._

 _She was stirring weakly at the sound of her name, muttering nonsense to herself in a hoarse whimper, but she **was** stirring._

 _I stole hope from that fact, eyes darting between darkened buildings, silent or as good as in this downpour, until I found what I was looking for._ _"Stay with me, Liz! Don't fall asleep, okay!?... Do that for me!"_

 _Staggering through knee-deep mush, ignoring the weight, the discomfort, and above all the steady trail of crimson dripping behind us as we went, staining the snow-strewn ground as I made my way towards the largest building in the settlement. The only one showing any sign of life aside from dimly lit candles, the place described to us._

 _The so-called " **Amber Fox Inn.** "_

 _"Somebody! **Anybody!** " My voice was nearly lost in the thunder crackling above and the music playing inside, but I kept shouting regardless, eyes so used to the dark by this point, they were half blinded by the swaying gold-colored lantern above the door, throwing the painted fox across it surface into sharp relief. I could care less, all but collapsing against the door and hammering away with a numb fist covered in blood, not my own unfortunately. __That, I probably could've handled better. " **Help!** Is anyone there!? **Anyone!?** "_

 _"J-Joel...?" So busy was I almost breaking down the door, I almost missed her weakened whisper, her gaze unfocused, voice slurred. "Joel, I... I-I don't... S-so tired..."_

 _"No... **No!** Elizabeth, no! Stay awake! You can't...! Liz...? Tch... **Damn it!** " I jostled her gently but firmly, wincing at the gasping intake of breath at the sudden motion, and panicking when she suddenly sagged against me. My fist thundered against the wood, stressing metal, and tearing the flesh of my knuckles beneath the glove. " **Is anyone here!? Please, we need...!** "_

 _"...S-shush... Eddy, you know Dad's working..." She was delirious now, my Aura reacting to the sudden rush of heat building throughout her body. I was warm, but she was practically on fire... "_... _Lizzie will... I'll tell you a story... J-just a minute..."_

 _Finally, on the seventh knock, just when I was sure the frame was going to collapse, the door opened, and I fell through, passing a squealing young blonde woman in blue... Or was her face blue? It was all a bit of a blur, slumping head first to my knees into a blessedly warm common room lit by candles and a roaring fireplace. Figures dressed in standard Mistral affair were leaping up and back from tables at the sight of me, watching warily._

 _All except for one, an older woman with twitching fox ears and a stern expression on her face at the sight of me, one that softened considerably at the sight of Liz. "_ _Asagi, get a room ready! **Now** , girl; stop staring!"_

 _"Y-yes, Miss Anbā! Right away!"_

 _The young woman straightened up, practically sprinting for the stairs while sneaking glances over her shoulder. Her face was blue, or the corners of her eyes at least, patterns of turquoise scales painting her cheeks highlighting reptilian pupils. She and her boss weren't the only Faunus in the room, instincts focusing on more than a few tails, extra ears and such, if still the clear minority._

 _ **'Am I staring...?'** Yeah, I was. Trapper instincts were in full force now, making me tense up._

 _"What happened?" A snapping pair of fingers, blowing up my senses, my head twitching. " **C'mon, boy, what happened!?...** "_

* * *

I bit the inside of my mouth, doing my best to keep up the smile and forget the feeling of dead weight limply hanging off my shoulders...

 _'Focus on the now. Focus on what I can do...'_

The mantra had gotten me this far, beyond what even I'd been expecting. "Besides, there's Sienna to consider," I spoke up, noting the pseudonym Briar had adopted for our stay. "Pretty sure she'd have my head if I hung around the room too much," I joked, or at least I hoped I was joking. Anbā didn't seem too convinced. "She's just a bit on edge, that's all. Not used to just sitting around."

"Thom, you're a kind boy - you really are - but keep letting that girl of yours walk all over you like some big burly rug, and I might just have to smack some sense into you for your own good," my landlady chided only half mockingly, taking a moment to rifle through some drawers for a few jangling bottles of spirit while I threw on the apron. "And seeing as you're the one working fingers to the bone to 'pay' for it, I think you've more than earned the right to lay about the room than that grouch does, injured or no," she added as an aside, jabbing a finger lightly in my chest, though I wasn't really paying attention, more focused on what I thought might've been the sound of something breaking on the next landing above us at her words. The Faunus spared a glance upward as well, the ghost of a smirk crossing her lips. "Lively brat, ain't she?"

"Like I said, bit on edge." I moved forward to get the door for her, hoping to steer the conversation back into safer waters, sparing an angry glance upwards when the Fox Faunus wasn't looking... I hoped.

* * *

"Ayy, Asagi! How 'bout another round for me and my pal here!?" one drunk patron called out from across the main room of the tavern proper, the arm clutching his mug thrown around his drinking buddy's shoulder, sloughing them both in thick mead. Neither cared overmuch, merely letting loose more chortling sniggers. "Make it... *hic* Make it double!"

"Y-yea... Yeah, what he said! Triple, even!" his friend seconded, almost toppling off his seat whilst trying to make a grab for their server, one Asagi Azeri. Missing miserably as she maneuvered skillfully passed their table, clearing as she went. Her arm already balanced a precarious tower of empty mugs and plates on her tray. "And... And some more a whateva' that stuff was from the chef back there! And maybe...!" He reached out again a bit lower, thinking he was being sneaky, and earning a sharp rap on the knuckles accompanied by stern glance from the Snake Faunus, even if she did tack on a warm smile for their benefit, waggling a free finger.

"Oh, _really?_ I think you two are just fine on the drinks for tonight, Mido. Don't want you two getting lost on the way home to the wives, now do we?" The pair shook their heads, chastised as the barmaid snatched up their mugs and added it to the teetering tower. "As for the food... _Thom!_ More fans asking after... _Eep!_ "

She let out a hissing squeak and skittered back in a jump that spilled the contents of her tray into the air, no doubt startled at the sudden appearance of my looming bulk edging around her almost noiselessly in the racket. Hastily sliding steaming bowls of spiced noodles across the table to each of them, I spun about quickly in the same motion as quickly as reflex could carry me to aid the flustered server.

One hand gently taking hold of her by the shoulder and maneuvering us both around, keeping her upright. The other caught a hold of the tray and its contents from the air with a few dexterous twists of the wrist and a bit of hasty fumbling on my part, breathing out a quick sigh of last mug still rattling as I offered it back to her.

"T-Thom, how did you...? W-when did...!? How...!?" She puffed out her cheeks, scales shimmering brightly in the candlelight as she quickly snatched the swaying tray back from me. My ears picked up her heart, now pounding in her chest, though I tried my best to ignore it. That had always felt rude, invasive.

For a moment, ignoring the scales, the way her blonde hair sat about her shoulders... I almost imagined a different girl, with violet eyes, and a smile that could light up the room... I shook my head, feeling suddenly guilty and more than a little flustered. I'd never minded showing off for her.

"Um, Thom? Are you...?"

"Ah, uh, sorry ." I removed my lingering hand quickly, though I kept a firm grip on the tray until I was sure she had it.

Both drunks stared at the two of us in mild disbelief before breaking out into little bouts of applause. Whether at the food, the show, both, I couldn't be sure, though they were joined by more than a few throughout the tavern.

"Heard these two complaining from the kitchens earlier, and thought it might be good to make extra before my shift ended. Should have enough stewing in back to finish out the night." My hand went to the back of my neck sheepishly, swiftly moving back a few steps. "Then I saw you were working hard, and figured I'd try to help out... Guess I should've said... Yeah. My bad. You alright?"

I liked to think this whole 'talking' thing had been easier, once...

"N-no, no, I... I mean yes. I'm fine." She readjusted the weight on her arm, smoothing down the front of her dress rather unnecessarily before smiling and brushing a few stray strands of gold from her face. I saw the tiniest hint of fangs tugging at her lips before she made her way around me back towards the counter, tapping my chest with a wagging as she went. "Though next time, make a bit of noise, won't you? A bell, maybe?"

"Hmm, maybe. I'll think about it." I watched her go, sighing to myself before an arm wrapped around my shoulder, and I smelled alcohol-laced breath and sweat. "Mr. Mido, something I can help with?"

"Aha! Y'see? Now... Ah, now that's how I bet he took down the ol' King of the Skies, right there!" Mido announced grandly with swaying grace as I angled him off me, clapping his hands together regardless, and inadvertently drawing the eye of every soul in the place. "A real Huntsman!... Sneakin'... * _hic_ * Sneakin' right up on the ol' bastard. Clippin' his wings like _THAT!"_ He chopped his hand down on the table, almost spilling his food in the process. "Wish I coulda' seen it myself! Must've really been somethin' fierce!"

"Wasn't much to see, really. A lot of screaming, and dumb decisions that just happened to work out." I waved away the claps and _"Hear, Hear's"_ sent my way politely, unable to help the heat from spreading to my cheeks. "Got lucky at the end of the day. All in the job."

"'All in the job,' he says! After staggering back this morning looking half dead on his feet!" My head twitched a fraction of an inch well before Anbā's hand snatched hold of my hair by the tail and yanked. None too gently, either. The Old Fox sported a smirking grin that didn't quite reach Mido and his friend. "You're done for the night, boy. Head up and get some rest now. And the rest of you, stop gawking! He ain't some attraction! You got drinks, drink 'em! Next round's on Mido, here! Man seems in a mighty generous mood this evening! With his praise... and his _hands._ " the Bar Mistress added in a lower tone, a much more dangerous one.

Cheers and laughter rose up at the words, and more than a few stuttering denials from the poor drunk, though she ignored both.

She'd cover the man, I knew, but she'd let him squirm a bit first for eyeing up her girl. "Heh. Serves him right, I guess."

"Braun! _March!_ "

Now it was my turn to weather the jeers, letting myself be pushed along by the huffing Faunus, though earning a few claps on the back as we went. Appreciative citizens, appreciating my efforts rather than glorifying them like those back in Rowan's Frontier had... It felt strange. Certainly not a bad strange, just... well, _strange._

"Ah, hey! Wait up a sec!"

"Hmm?"

Anbā suddenly ceased her pushing and prodding, a moment of swift and pointed discussion following before she backed off with a heavy sigh. Giving a bit of space for Asagi to sidle up beside me with her hands behind her back, looking a bit flustered, which didn't exactly help my situation.

The momentary comparison to Yang hadn't been for nothing.

She was far from unattractive, with long golden hair that fell in waves about a heart shaped face with wide glowing eyes, though usually schooled into a messy bun. Skin like marble, and, as opposed to many other reptilian Faunus I'd seen over the years, the extent of her traits only seemed to accent her appearance rather than make her seem more alien.

 _'Met one with a detachable tail, one that could unhinge their jaw, another with frills...'_ I watched as the girl used her free hand to move her hair, attempting to cover the scales like she should be ashamed of them. _'...She's got nothing to worry about.'_

Though moreover it was the innocent energy that reminded me of a certain Huntress, even if it was far from the original.

"Here." Asagi held up a wrapped bag tied off with a cute bow before my face, smiling shyly, though I could tell a lot of this was planned. Cakes, confections, and sweets filled it to the brim, all freshly baked, or close to it, by the looks of it, the heat palpable as I took hold. "For you. My thanks on behalf of Akai-Hana, I guess." She looked around at her fellows, most clapping hands or raising drinks by this point, calling out toasts.

" _THREE CHEERS TO THE HUNTSMAN!_ "

 ** _"BRAUN! BRAUN! BRAUN!"_**

All rather embarrassing, really, though not unpleasant.

Especially once I noticed why the scent of the cakes seemed so familiar. "Hey, aren't these...?" I pulled one from the bag, examining it and taking a bite, her face lighting up... So why did it feel like I'd just been punched in the gut?

 _'Wow, she really does look like... **STOP IT!** '_

No, she didn't. It's just a longing mind playing tricks on me. An unworthy comparison, unfair to both of them.

 _'Oh lovely, now I sound like Grandpa...'_

I looked around quickly for a distraction, only catching sight of Anbā with her arms crossed, watching the proceedings carefully. The only one not seeming to be egging the girl on or otherwise caught up in something raucous.

"Right? I mean they hopefully should. They're yours." Asagi continued on, tapping her index fingers together nervously, not quite able to look up at me, or meet my gaze. "Well, your recipes, anyway. I tried to copy what I could remember from your lessons, but I'm not sure if I did it right." She reddened considerably now, taking a deep breath. "Maybe, sometime when you're free, you could give me some pointers, or we could...?"

"R-right! Sure, they definitely taste great! Mm," I said hastily with a stupid grin, giving her a sloppy bow, already moving for the stairs leading to the next landing and the rooms beyond. "I'm sure Sienna would love some, too. Loves sweets, that one!" I gave her one last fleeting look, seeing the disappointment and irritation playing across the young woman's face, Anbā and her silent approval, and the general confusion of those others throughout the tavern. "Really. Thanks, again!"

I at least waited until I was out of sight, and hopefully for the most part out of mind, before slamming my head against a wall... _Hard._

* * *

 _"_ Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Hero Huntsman, himself," my partner's verbal assault started the moment I opened the door to our shared space, almost like she'd been waiting for me all this time. Who knew? She might've been knowing her, and next it would be teasing. "What? Got tired of basking in all the glory? ' _Thomas Braun_ ,' so strong, so brave, so...! _Ooh!_ "

Yep, there we go...

Elizabeth Briar, former Trapper and Agent of the Red Hand, rolled about on the bed she'd all but claimed as her own, and pretended to swoon with exaggerated melodrama. A mischievous Cheshire expression written across a face that would've disarmed most, especially given her state of... dress.

Or distinct lack of it, unless you counted a pair of shorts barely long enough to be considered such, and the thick white bandages crisscrossing the length of her arms and much of her upper torso and back, and those couldn't exactly be called "modest" by any stretch of the word.

"Ah... Heard all that, did you?"

I eyed the book she'd been reading, swiftly closed and shoved under a pillow, or the attempt had been made, at least. Difficult to be very thorough without the use of one's arms, it seemed.

Not that there was much to look at, anyway. Just an old, leather-bound diary stuffed to the brim with notes and diagrams, the words "Wisteria Marigold" embossed across the cover in faded lettering.

"'Course I did. How could I not, way this glorified shack's acoustics are all over the place?" She said with a weak shrug and a wince, peering about the tiny room with marked distaste.

"Ever try music?" I suggested amiably, rubbing at my own ears. The girl did have a point, more than a dozen voices filtering in from downstairs below our feet, traveling through the floorboards. "Worked for me."

She stuck her tongue out, perching her chin on her knee. "Seriously, don't know how you stand it. This whole ' _rustic_ ' thing."

"Is it really so hard to believe I actually like it out here?" I cocked my head, listening to the renewed conversation downstairs, the calls for drinks, the songs. Positivism at its finest. "Clean air, decent people, no strictures on life or how it's supposed to be lived. Just... _life._ It's... I don't know, 'quaint?'" I grinned, pulling at my shirt and gazing down for a moment at the highways of scarred tissue that lay beneath. "Compared to what we're both used to dealing with, well... It's a refreshing change of pace, don't you think?"

"Pfft... _Boring,_ more like." She shook her head, blowing dark locks of hair from her face, vivid green eyes flashing. "Most exciting part of my day was the damned bath, and I'm pretty sure that slithering serving girl wants to drown me by this point, jealous one she is. Thinks I've got my claws sunk into you, or something." She snickered, as if the very idea was absurd. "That Anbā fox's influence, no doubt. Pretty hard to dissuade the old harpy otherwise."

Not that I was really paying much attention to her ranging by that point, quickly shutting the door behind me, and doing up the lock with a heavy *clang* and a weary groan that didn't escape her notice. Because of course it didn't.

"Speaking of which, smooth moves dodging Snake Girl, by the way," Briar said, leaning forward, arms dragging by her sides limply. "Quick thinking, bringing me up though the getaway might've been a teensy bit awkward... Aww, what am I saying!?" A sudden burst of renewed giggles ripped their way free from her mouth and she was face down in the sheets, practically crying. " _Sooooo_ awkward. I mean, gods, that was bad! Like _really_ bad!" She perked up, deepening her voice in a scarily accurate imitation of my own. " _Oh ho! Loves sweets, that one!_ Honestly, Ambrose, you... _Hahahaha!_ I can't! I just can't...!"

"Yeah, sure. Real funny. Laugh it up."

"Trust me, I will. Believe you me." She broke character with another cackle, easing off after a few more distinctly awkward seconds. "Don't see why you don't just give in and go for it? Make a girl's night, work off some stress, have some fun, and no one'll be the wiser. It's a win-win."

"Liz, don't...!"

"Plus, she's a blonde. You like blondes now, don't you? Sure, it's a Faunus, and a desperate one at that, what with the whole country innocent act. But it isn't like you haven't had far lower standards in the past. Ooh, still remember Ao? I mean, gods above, that week was just _cringeworthy..._ "

Ao. An old "friend" back from the Trapper days during our off and on again trysts...

 _'Dead, too, I think... Shame, that... Then again, it's probably also a blessing.'_

Briar was right about one thing. That week had been pretty bad, if not in all the ways one might expect. Still, that didn't mean I would stomach insults.

"Look, that's enough! Drop it!"

" _Awwww_ , so defensive. You're no fun anymore, big guy. I mean, it's not like you wouldn't be..."

By the way she was carrying on, it seemed she was intent on doing just that: carrying on.

Surrendering to the inevitable, I set about making my way over to a small work bench in the corner, littered with bits of silver, gears, and the other disassembled materials that made up my _Storm Song._ All the pieces that needed to be cleaned and serviced after my little hunt yesterday.

All but one crucial piece, anyway.

"She kinda looks like Xiao Long. Is that it?" I flinched, cursing as I fumbled with a loose gear, almost losing it across the desk. "Barely, but I guess if you can think away the scales, then anything blonde would probably... Oh, don't give me that look. What's the harm? Thought you two were on a break or something?"

"That's _not_ what happened." She shrugged, or at least I could tell she had by the rustling on the bed, my jaw tightening. " _It's not!_ "

"Huh, imagine that. A long-distance relationship that finally works. Lucky you. I mean, you have such a _great_ track record with those, right?"

"Definitely imagining how quiet it'd be if I'd just left you in that blizzard." It was vindictive, spiteful, mean, and it slipped out before I could help myself. She knew damn we'll what my thoughts were on Yang, even approving after a fashion. Still her little prodding tests of devotion took their toll after a while...

Almost on cue, the temperature in the room plummeted sharply, enough that it actually drew a gasp of vapor visible from my mouth, patterns of permafrost tinting the window looking down on Akai-Hana and beyond. It was hard to breathe, the cold biting deep into my lungs.

"L- _Liz!_ " And like that, the atmosphere was back to normal, if a fair bit more humid. I slumped forward a bit, taking one short gasp before steeling myself, fists clenched across the surface of the desk. Forcing down the anger, keeping the storm controlled. "Witch..."

"Ooh, ouch. Careful, Joel. That's _cold_." Elizabeth rolled onto her back gingerly, kicking long legs up into the air lazily in a cycling motion. "Temper, temper, you _snow_ what happens when you get riled up." She pointed with her foot, shaking her big toe at my frowning countenance. "What? I thought you enjoyed bad puns now? It's a joke."

 _'More like I enjoyed the person making them...'_

Keeping silent more out of an unwillingness to argue, ignoring her attempts to goad me, I pulled out the _Heart of Rowan,_ and rolled the small stone through my fingers. Tiny spurts of electricity rippled from the stone through my arm, my Semblance pulsing in time with the strange rhythm the crystal generated, the feeling... not unpleasant.

 _'_ _Still, should I be carrying it around with me?...'_

If anything, the act was strangely calming, akin to listening to music or relaxing in the shade on a warm day. It helped me focus, and ignore my roommate.

Not that it was entirely Liz's fault, at least not really. We needed a target, an objective, something to occupy us. It was how we were made. How we were conditioned to feel after years of near constant action back in the "good old days."

She was going stir crazy, just as I was, only she didn't have the luxury of manual labor or supremely dangerous tasks to combat the boredom.

Only the mind-numbing task of plotting out our next course when - and _if_ \- Fortuna Marigold spontaneously decided to reappear suddenly, as she was wont to do. But even then, it wasn't like she could do much else.

Not with those injuries...

My eyes drifted to the bandages along her arms, narrowing at the small patina of red starting to stain through the pure white wraps, down to the subtle glow shimmering beneath alongside raw flesh.

 _''Sometimes, power requires pain, sacrifice, and hardship.'_ ' That's what Master had said before she left. What the enigmatic Fortuna Marigold had imparted after departing to who knows where, tracking down who knows who in order to get the information we needed. When she'd left Elizabeth in my care, to heal, to recover, to grow strong...

My mind wandered back to that night weeks ago, when decisions had been reached, limits tested. _'Still, were we...'_

* * *

 _"...sure all of this is really necessary?" I asked, tearing my wary gaze from the thick corded lengths of leather bindings pulled from one of the sacks my errant Master had thrust into my hands with uncharacteristic terseness the moment she'd stepped foot inside the rundown hovel, having returned from whatever errand she'd been out running. Her "preparations," as she'd put it. "Fortuna, I don't think..."_

 _"I don't need you to think right now, Joel."_

 _Her words were sharp, daggers cutting apart any thoughts of resistance, and set my nerves even more on edge than they already were, even if it was quite unnecessary. That gaze of hers, that one burnished amber orb glowering back at me from underneath the deep shadow cast by the brim of her hat, was more than sufficient to accomplish that much._

 _"What I **do** need is for you to either be quiet and help, or go find somewhere nice and far enough away out of trouble so I can do what has to be done in peace. You choose."_

 _Fortuna was tense, frightened, even._ _Nervous beyond anything I'd ever seen from her before..._

 _And why shouldn't she be? This was to be the night that would see the culmination of years of work and preparation either fulfilled or... or, gods forbid, ended._

 _My answer should've been obvious, though I still felt the need to nod, replacing the bindings back in its sack, and bending down to collect the others, moving with exaggerated gentleness so as to not disturb the delicate contents and apparatus jangling within though catching glimpses all the same._

 _Many of which I only had the barest inkling of their exact use, brass bowls and philters of various sizes, a strange ironclad pen of painstakingly intricate design tipped by a curious crystalline spike the size of a fingernail. And sitting just beneath that, jingling at the bottom..._

 _"Is this...?" I exhaled softly with a visible wince, as if doing even that much might be enough to upset the suspension of what could only be Dust contained in thick glass containers._

 _Unlike most Dust I'd handled over the years, however, the bounty of "Nature's Wrath" that these vials held wasn't formed in a solid crystalline structure or some gaseous powder, but sloshing about the bottle in a distinct fluid motion maybe a hair thicker than water._

 _Four of them altogether, similar but for a few quirks that went beyond simply color. The red vial was far more jellied than the others, producing a low but incessant heat I could feel through the glass, while the blue felt heavier and chilling to the touch. White was light as air, while yellow sent shivers up my spine just to hold, my Semblance reacting in kind, pulsing up my arm._

 _" **Careful** with those!" Marigold's strict tone brought me back to my senses. "That's Dust essence, pure elemental fury distilled and sharpened along a very delicate balance. Short version, you spark, and we can probably kiss our collective asses - and anything within a mile's radius - goodbye." She said it so casually, but it wasn't like this was my first time seeing such a thing, or at least the results of it._

 _A bomb, one my brother had helped design that I and my friends had defended in the name of Atlas, one capable of devastating potential in the wrong hands. Something nobody should be allowed to possess... and we were about to..._

 _I felt sick, stomach roiling._

 _"It also happens to be worth more than half the villages on this continent, and a right bitch to obtain, so careful now. No sparky-sparky, got it?"_

 _"Loud and clear," I replied in a strangled yelp, quickly replacing the Dust before the sparks pulsing along my arm could gain any traction._

 _"Alrighty then." Her expression softened somewhat, the fire in her eye easing if only just. "And the other preparations I requested. They're all in order?"_

 _"Of course." My eyes shifted to the thick oak table standing in the center of the room before the puttering fire of a rusted furnace, the steaming water I'd flash boiled using my Semblance, the coils of rags and bandages, blankets and..._

 _ **'By her blood, she's actually serious. This is ACTUALLY happening...!'** It had been hinted at for years, and we'd both had the process explained to us a hundred times. **'It's too soon. It has to be too soon...'**_

 _"Excellent! Knew I could count on you."_

 _The Dust Magus smiled with a flash of brilliant white teeth, a trace of the familiar warmth and confidence she usually bore showing through though was soon overshadowed by the weight of the moment once more. The expression she bore was tinged with rare worry as she gave the space a once over, biting her lip without seemingly being aware._

 _"...This isn't what I wanted for her... Not like this." She breathed the admission under her breath before remembering I could hear every word. I pretended I didn't, but I could never fool her, Marigold flinching for a moment before relaxing with something akin to resignation, hand drifting to massage the skin beneath her sleeves, allowing me a glimpse of the crystalline brands shimmering beneath. "And Lizzie? How's our girl holding up?"_

 _"Just fine."_

 _I bit back my own reply as the young woman in question strode into the room, adjusting the fit of the loose silk robe she wore, and wringing water and traces of purple-hued dye out of freshly clipped tresses that now clung tightly to just about her jawline, possessing its own natural amaranthine hues mixed with the black._

 _The flesh beneath the robe, rubbed almost red from insistent scrubbing, glistened with embedded herbal oils to the point Liz almost shone in the dim firelight, all applied over the course of grueling, swear-filled hours with a tub, and awkwardly lent assistance on my part. Designed to purge impurities and numb sections of the skin, to ease what was about to happen to some degree._

 _"You're late."_

 _"Certain distractions demanded my attention, Sweetie," the older woman deflected with her usual vagueness, though there was nothing indirect about the pride in her Aura as she took in her student. "Couldn't afford any interruptions for your big day, could we? And clearing every Grimm for miles does require just a **little** bit of..." The jest died in her throat, seriousness once more taking the lead, with me right in the middle as always, hanging back. This wasn't my place to argue, regardless of my own thoughts on the matter. "You're ready for this? Absolutely **certain?** Resolved?"_

 _"Yes, Master." The same hard note in her voice, the same determination. "I'm ready."_

 _"There's no shame in being afraid. You know that, don't you? Took me two attempts to work up the stones, and I still...!"_

 _"Fortuna, **enough!** "_

 _As surprising as it was, even I couldn't suppress a grin at the exasperated appeal._ _None of the hidden inflection, or shifts in perception so common to my former... to my **current** partner. This was all her, and she was staring at Marigold just as one might expect a child to view her parent. A plea to trust them, to believe in them._

 _"I'm freezing in this dumb getup. Might as well get started while I can still feel my toes."_

 _It was a poor joke, but we didn't care. None of us did, Fortuna only drawing close to envelop her student in a hug she at first resisted, before giving in slowly but surely to the embrace. There were words whispered, things I tried to ignore, allowing them their fleeting moments of privacy._

 _This night was going to be hard enough as it was..._

* * *

 _"Damn it, Joel, put some muscle into it! Hold her... Agh... **Hold her steady!** "_

 _I could only grimace in reply to my mentor's desperate urging, but not in pain. I didn't deserve to feel that. Even as hands reshaped through Aura and mad science, capable of bending steel in their grasp, sought to shatter my arms at the wrists in a clinging hold._

 _This was child's play; this hurt was nothing. Nothing compared to the agony endured by the young woman I sought to keep still..._

 _"Lizzie? Lizzie, baby, you need to breathe. I know it hurts," Marigold whispered as she worked, injecting a tender softness into the words that I'd rarely, if ever, heard in her voice before. She knew this pain, had endured it herself, and was inflicting it upon her student all the same. "Just breathe! We're almost done... **Joel, I said...!** "_

 _"I-I'm trying!"_

 _And I was, my eyes turning from the the spike my mentor bore, her thumb and index finger burning like fire as she warmed the needle-length tip, sterilizing it for the next round with a look of pained torment as she held it out before her, but not a shred of regret like before._

 _I didn't want to see that expression. Never again. If I did, I would try to stop this, and ruin everything._

 _But there was nowhere else to look..._

 _Certainly not Briar's arms, even with the curving elegant designs taking shape before my eyes, long flowing sweeps of raw crystalline beauty that drew and repulsed me to the soul in equal measure._

 _Nor could I bear the shadows cast by the fire dancing along the walls, the shapes as good as a mirror._

 _So I settled on her face, pale and sweating, eyes wide and fearful, if unbroken... Not yet. Not **ever,** I hoped. I focused on that fact. Not yet..._

 _"Liz... Liz, listen to me! It's not much longer! You hear that? Not much longer... You're doing great...!"_

 _As if I knew the signs to confirm that either way. Marigold wasn't giving any indication, her face hardening into a mask of perfect focus, every drag of the needle across flesh measured and precise down to an inhuman degree, her eye continually darting to an old, worn-down tome perched beside her, referencing its confounding contents at a glance._

 _"Just a bit longer. Hold on for just a bit...!"_

 _The words were blithering and pointless, falling on deaf ears, but I kept going, whispering words of encouragement with an air of calm certainty that I was leagues from feeling myself, all while trying to ignore the strange panoply of scents assaulting my senses._

 _Charred meat, a roiling storm, bitter winter frost, a summer breeze, of all things... And blood. Far too much blood._

 _One after the other, and I let none of it show on my face, keeping a smile barely maintained while keeping the worst of the former Trapper's movements under control._

 _I was just supposed to distract her, for what that was worth._

 _Thankfully, Liz had ceased thrashing about early in the process... **'Oh gods, how could I actually think that?...'** Though not by any will of her own, muscles locked in place by sheer virtue of the level of mental shock and the agony inflicted on her nervous system._

 _The numbing oils had aided at first, but they'd proved a dull comfort when one had Dust running in their veins. I knew that well enough from my own fumbling attempts at Infusion._

 _Not just Dust, but its essence, Nature's Wrath in truth..._

 _"Ngghh... Hah, agh... **Mmph!** " The girl bit back another scream before it could pass her lips through pure force of will born through training and a **sheer,** innate grit that shamed me to realize I'd never known she possessed. Locking her jaw so tightly, I was shocked none of her teeth cracked under the strain, tendons pulsing along her neck from the effort. "I-I... I...!"_

 _"Liz, I **know** you can do this!" I held her hand tightly, she gripped back harder. I could feel her trembling as I brought her palm to my forehead, resisting the urge to whimper as Fortuna dragged the needle across skin, branding the flesh in Dust... "You're one of the strongest people I know! The strongest between us by far. This... This is just another fight! C'mon!" I felt so helpless, so useless, so... "You won't lose now! You **can't!** "_

 _ **'Damn Infusion, damn Marigold's teachings, damn the legacy...!'**_ _But I continued to allow it, anyway, despite my doubts._

 _Aiding in this torture, keeping a watchful eye on the bindings keeping Liz contained, trying forget the guilt, to remember that this was what she'd wanted. This was why she had trained, fought, and endured so much, to earn the right to even attempt this little "ceremony." That was the best way I could put it._

 _"Operation" just sounded too clinical, too neat. Nothing like this._

 _This was the final stage of Infusion. The final step that would see Elizabeth Briar rise to new heights to possibly eclipse even Fortuna herself._

 _ **'...Or see her crash and burn away to nothing.'**_

 _And that had been one of the kinder outcomes Marigold had outlined. The others... I could feel my skin crawling just to consider them._

 _This wasn't like weaving Dust into a stitch of clothing, and even the rare instances I'd heard of Dust being implanted within a person wasn't like this... This wasn't an addition, this was something more. This would lead to great power. That was why Liz had asked for this..._

 _And great power often came at a cost. This pain was theirs._

 _Marigold had admitted freely that she'd been left in tears, broken under the needle of her own Master within a minute of beginning the operation._

 _She'd made quite clear to her suffering student just how proud she was of her during those short-lived periods of rest, when the old Bounty Huntress would almost collapse back against me, drenched head to toe in sweat, her own marks casting a dim light all their own. Nothing compared to the almost blinding radiance of the raw etchings across her pupil's shoulders and arms._

 _"That's... That's my girl," she'd murmured in a hoarse whisper I was certain only I could hear. "We're so close now... So close..."_

 _Liz made it a full two hours before she finally broke, tears spilling down her face, her mind fogged by pain and Dust exposure._

 _" **M-MAKE IT STOP!** " The plea had caught Marigold and I off guard, but still the Magus worked on, shedding tears of her own. I just sat there, open-mouthed and resisting every instinct I possessed, the effort ripping me apart._

 _It was almost done. Almost. **Almost...**_

 _" **PLEASE, JOEL, MAKE IT STOP! JOEL!** "_

* * *

"Joel?... Oi, _Joel!_ "

"Hmm?"

I blinked away the disturbing memories, and was abruptly jolted back to reality, mostly from the impact of a flying boot heel colliding with the back of my skull. The force behind it pitched me head first into the work desk, sending papers and silver shavings scattering across the floor.

"G-gods damn it...!" Clutching at my nose, rounding on the only other occupant in the room, I quickly ducked, dodging another boot by the skin of my teeth that cracked against the wall, leaving a sizable dent. "What the hell's the matter with you!?"

"Me!? What's wrong with _you!?_ " Liz spat back angrily, irritated, and... concerned? "Sitting there muttering gibberish to yourself! It's creepy! Been trying to get a hold of you for like a whole minute now!"

 _...Really?_

"What are you...?" I paused with a startled grunt, hefting what was now a completely maintained and reassembled _Storm Song_ in one hand. The silver surfaces of the weapon shining pristine as the day I'd first taken it up. A quick gesture saw the blades extending with a whirring click, revealing freshly sharpened razor fine edges. The _Heart_ was shimmering in its inset, pulsing as always with that strange, otherworldly song on the edge of hearing. "...How did that...?"

How the hell had I managed this? Even after weeks, it still took a fair bit of time and focus to decipher Ruby's notes and blueprints whenever it came to maintenance. A reason I was so thankful the weapon itself was built so hardily, capable of going long lengths of time between tune-ups.

"Huh?"

"Look, you might not think it, but I get this whole 'embracing your roots' thing you've got going on these days. I really do," the Dust Magus continued on, leaning back against the headboard of the bed, looking, for all her bluster, a little drained. I made a mental note to change her bandages, my anger fading in the face of unease and even a bit of guilt. "But can you at least speak a language I can understand when you're making comebacks? Sorta ruins the fun otherwise."

I nodded along absently, retracting the blades and placing the weapon on the desk just a bit too hastily.

Another lapse, same as the others... But this time...

 _'...What the hell's happening to me?'_

I didn't know the answer to that, but I knew what it likely meant. Tomorrow was going to be another busy day.

I wasn't to sure I could afford it to be otherwise...

* * *

- _ **END**_

* * *

 **-OC Voice Cast Introduced this Chapter-**

Miss Anbā - Wendee Lee

Asagi Azeri - Jad Saxton

* * *

 ** _A/N: Happy Holidays everyone, hope everything is going well. Better than they are for Joel at any rate, turns out babysitting his ex in the middle of Winter isn't exactly what he had in mind, especially given everything else going on which will be explained in due time. Needed to catch him up though._**

 ** _Apologies for the wait between chapters, doing my best to get ahead of things on top of work. Also still trying to figure out the right length for these things. Seems most people prefer longer chapters with more meat to move things along, just be aware they do take longer as a result. I can admit I like it too, and most chapters after this will cover multiple POVs._**

 ** _Anyway, thank you for sticking with this story and I wish you all a Happy New year of updates and general good feels._**

* * *

 ** _(Next Chapter: Danger on the high seas...)_**


	10. Chapter 10

_**Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_

* * *

DANGERS AT SEA

* * *

 _ **-Pino of the Horo-Sha-**_

"There you go, little one. Drink up. That's it, easy now," I instructed gently, pouring a small measure, and handing off the small pewter cup into shaking hands, making certain the child didn't spit out the ginger remedy from the first sip, keeping my voice and being supportive as the young girl's face twisted in exaggerated disgust. "Delicious, is it not?"

I laughed away the fervent denials thrown back at me, denials that swiftly turned to cheers as I pulled a piece of a honeyed sweet from a pouch at my belt and saw it disappear in an instant into tiny grasping hands.

Grinning from behind my crimson visage, I stood up, careful to adjust for the gentle swaying of the ship underfoot, and thus stumbling only slightly in the attempt. Far better than I'd been at the start of our grand voyage, that was for certain, and far better than some.

Many of the Horo-Sha, the young and old especially, were not used to such things, and had suffered as a result at the hands of cresting waves constantly rocking the creaking berths. Cases of motion sickness swept through our ranks at a rate that saw Elder Lux confined to his quarters brewing tinctures and remedies, and his overworked assistant scrambling about the length of vessel trying to administer them all to those in need.

 _'Count your blessings. Things could always be worse...'_

A dour if honest piece of knowledge passed down by my mentor at times like this, something to make the experience of wiping vomit from my boots and enduring sleepless nights a bit more palatable.

Not that I needed to. The joy well earned in seeing people's faces light up as discomfort receded was more than enough, at least it was for me.

Lux had called me strange for that, though he'd been smiling at the time. A confusing man, my teacher. Difficult to read, even though he eschewed the mask like many other elders.

Nodding my head at that silent sentiment, I turned to regard the young one's guardian in his own green mask. Her elder brother, I recalled. That was how it often went among the People. Grimm attacks, rare as we struggled to make them, took their toll on us same as any other community on Remnant. We came to together in such cases, caring for our own.

"Pino... Ah, H-Healer, I mean," he stammered weakly, clutching at the furred shoulder of my robes, and cocking his head in silent question towards the girl happily munching on the candy. Already she was showing more energy than before, the color returning to her face as the remedy worked its course. "She's... She's going to be...?" His posture straightened at my nod, a strangled groan of relief echoing behind his "face."

"Make certain she gets at least a cup or two down throughout the day if the symptoms persist," I explained, brushing off my robes and offering the girl one last pat on the head. "No more than that, otherwise seek the Elder or myself. Our hosts should be able to point you to one of us."

The young man nodded gratefully, masked head bowing respectfully before returning his attention back to his charge, leaving me free to wander about the ship for a spell, at least until the next case or one of Lux's runners found me, or it was time to check in with my irascible teacher.

Life as a Healer, one whose skills were valued and admired, could be rewarding at times. Trying at others.

As I walked the length of the vessel idly, I noticed many of those not of the crew, and even a few not wearing the mask favored by the Horo-Sha, giving signs of respect along my tripping journey towards the upper decks, shielding my gaze from the sudden rush of sunlight as I stepped into open air, the glare piercing even the veil of my mask with its brilliance.

T'was still a bit odd, seeing such respect offered in those my own age, and in many cases far beyond it. A feeling that would pass in time, or so my mentor had assured me when I'd voiced my discomfort to him. I was becoming a person others turned to for aid, one from which they would be expecting calm assistance and knowing guidance.

A heavy burden, one I was sometimes unsure I could bear.

Reika had said it was somewhat similar for Huntsman and Huntresses as well, though seeing the way she carried herself, I could admit some trouble believing it. The young woman was all straight-backed confidence and poise despite her small stature, not that I would ever say such a thing in her earshot. Qualities I couldn't help but envy at times, especially after watching her train, the power she wielded, the skill she showed in every motion...

I smacked myself on the side of the head, eliciting a few odd looks from some of the over-muscled crew as I scarpered off, narrowly dodging passed a few others in the midst of their duties, and earning a few choice words I couldn't bear to repeat.

Speaking of the Huntress in question, I was far from surprised to find her perched in quite the same position I'd seen her last. The same vigil she'd assumed almost everyday since the ship had disembarked, sitting atop the prow staring ahead at the wide expanse of cascading waves as Sanus' familiar shores grew further and further behind us, until vanishing from sight entirely.

Reika hadn't looked back. Not even once, as far as I knew from what the crew and my fellows had said of her. She kept her gaze resolutely forward towards the horizon, unbowed. At times, she had been so still, it seemed she was almost a part of the ship.

Most kept a respectful distance, Horo-Sha and sailor alike, unable to communicate, and I supposed unwilling to risk bothering the Huntress. Understandable, seeing as the seas were dangerous, and the prospect of having such a warrior on board to repel sea-born Grimm had been one of the major factors in our transport's captain taking us aboard the massive cargo ship bound for Anima.

From what I could see now, however, her eyes were closed, body swaying gently in time with the rocking motions of the ship. She could have been sleeping, her breathing calm and controlled, punctuated by steady rise and fall of her shoulders, the jingling chime of the bells affixed in her hair ringing in the salt tinged winds.

I watched her for a few long, drawn out moments more, standing awkwardly in the middle of the deck, doing my best to keep abreast of the haggard crew. Unwilling to interrupt, and quite unsure of what I was doing, I actually turned to leave when her hand raised slowly, fingers moving slowly into broad recognizable signs.

" _Pino, can you stop staring now, please?_ " The words, once translated in my slow fumbling way, made me jump. Shock overriding sense before I remembered her Gift, her Semblance. One that made it quite impossible to take her unawares. Well, except for Lux, but he'd always had a way about him when it came to turning up at the worst moments with a rap of his staff and a firm scolding on his tongue... Wait, she's still waiting. I should go to her, right? _"It is strange."_

 _''...Strange,' huh?... Wonderful. Just wonderful.'_

"Apologies. I didn't mean to offend." I tapped the forehead of my mask and strode over, joining her along the front of the ship, unable to help a nervous glance down at the water smashing against the hull with a roar of over-pressure and foam.

How she could stand being up here all day - and all night, if I'd heard right - was a mystery I'd never quite understand. Much like the young woman herself. "You appeared to be meditating, and Elder Lux has never taken kindly to being interrupted." I glanced down at her, turning away swiftly with a heated flush on my cheeks when I realized she once again wasn't actually wearing the child's mask she carried around, preferring to feel the salt spray on bare flesh.

 _'How can she be fine with exposing herself?'_ My mind wondered so many questions, thinking back to the port town we'd visited, all the bare faces regarding the Horo-Sha as if we were the strange ones. _'I'll never understand it. How can anyone live like that?'_

The elderly of our people were understandable, precious family and advisors to all who crossed their path. But for those so young... Many of the younger Horo-Sha had been intrigued at the sight of men and women their own age unmasked in town, much like they had been with Reika.

Though, thankfully, the more responsible of the camp reigned them in before trouble could be had.

 _"Did Lux send you?"_ My strange new friend queried, still not looking at me, or even having opened her eyes. Not that I wasn't certain she knew I was there, or how flustered she was making me. Reika enjoyed that effect she had on me, finding it amusing for reasons I couldn't fathom, using it to coerce favors like aid in training, or time with which to ask me questions regarding the People. _"He needn't worry. Motion sickness is no issue."_ Her scarred lips grinned, mouthing something that would've been "Arc."

"No, he didn't. Though it's good to hear you are doing well," I explained, giving her a nod she couldn't see, leaving me shifting a bit uncomfortably. "Though he was curious... As well we all are. You haven't been eating with us, and you don't sleep in the holds... or at all, it seems. If we've done something...?" She shook her head fiercely at that, hand waving, eyes shooting open with a fervent denial and innocent panic. "Um, I'm... sorry?"

 _"Don't be! Nothing wrong!"_

She motioned to her chest, shaking her head at my apparent misunderstanding, before slowing down, spelling things out. I would need to apply myself more ardently towards learning her curious hand speech. Make things easier for her... Pay attention!

" _...Fault all mine. I guess I'm only... nervous. Apologies."_

"Nervous? You?" I hadn't meant to chuckle, regretting it the instant I saw the slight irritation flicker through her eyes, the only feature I found I could look at without feeling overly flustered. I brought my hands up, stuttering and stammering a few apologies until she was sated, somehow still laughing despite the mix up. "It's just difficult to imagine you being nervous over anything. I mean, I've seen you face the Monsters unarmed, without even blinking. If you can do that..." I trailed off, noting the momentary flicker of something in her expression. Guilt... Fear, maybe?

All I knew was I didn't like seeing it. Not one bit.

This was a warrior that had survived the near-fall of a Kingdom, defeating insidious captors to free herself, overcoming injuries that only months before I would've considered irrecoverable, dragging herself along on crutches, hands, and knees until she was fighting once more. Reika Murasaki, Huntress of fallen Beacon, was also human; a young woman carrying her own scars, and not just physical.

She could feel pain just like anybody else... even with Aura. I had to remember that.

Huntsmen and Huntresses might be the heroes one heard about in stories, but they were also people as well.

"Concerns about the journey?" I ventured, picking my words carefully as I clasped my hands together, wishing I could assume the "mask" of the calm, composed healer; the confident confidant. But it rarely worked even among my fellows, and never with her. That curious _Sense_ of hers. Still, no giving up now. I was committed. "Your friends?" Reika's eyebrow twitched, the muscles about her jaw tightening. Those little things that years of diagnosis and practice had trained me to seek out. "You worry for them."

That wasn't even a question. The answer was obvious.

 _"...I'm close."_ The signs sounded hesitant, if that was possible, different from the usual lightning quick surety I was used to in the movements. Almost as if giving "voice" to the sentiment would see the chance snatched away. _"It's strange. I feel them, all the time now. Differently than before."_ The Huntress smiled, eyes shining with the distant memory of something beyond this boat, shifting just for a moment back towards the coast. Towards Vale... Towards Beacon. _"Moving, fighting, living... and always there. Ben is hurting, Joel is struggling, and Maxine..."_ Her fingers faltered, forming a tight fist before continuing as if the interruption hadn't occurred. _"I'm so close now, but everything is changing so much. What if they've changed, too?_ _What if **I** change?"_

"I... Well now. I..."

I began, only to fail from the outset, what I'd been about to say grinding to a halt in my throat... I didn't know what to say to that, having to run through the motions a few times to make sure I had the right translation. It wouldn't have been the first time I'd gotten confused as to her meanings. But not this time, and Reika had noticed my fumbling, shaking out her head with a jingle of tiny chimes before allowing a smile to grace her features once more.

 _"Forget I said anything. Just rambling to myself."_ She signed almost dismissively. Flippantly, even. Was it even possible to sigh to oneself? _"I am sure they would be mad at me for worrying this much. It is silly."_

"N-no, I don't think it's silly at all!"

Reika's head perked up, eyebrow raised as her attention was piqued. Mine was, too, considering I had no idea why I'd spoken up to respond in the first place.

"It's just... I mean, from what you've told me of them, I think they would appreciate knowing someone cares about them so much."

Frankly, I considered the young Huntress' drive in this matter to be nothing short of inspiring. Almost to the point I was actually starting to feel excited at the prospect of coming face to face with this "Team AMBR".

This leader of hers, Joel, brave and steadfast. Maxine, headstrong, but never one to be cowed. Ben, cunning and... "irritating," I think the sign had been. "Have you given any thought as to what you'll do? When you finally rejoin them, I mean," I clarified, a gust of wind catching my robes, and almost threatening to put me off balance until I finally sat down to join her. Meanwhile, Reika looked on, gloriously unaffected. "Any plans?"

 _"Indeed... I think I'll break their legs."_ I nodded along sportively, right up until I was forced into a double take, looking at the girl beside me nervously, shifting in my seat while another gust of salt spray bloomed upwards. She was laughing silently, right up until she noticed my reaction, yawing a hand jovially. _"Apologies. A friend's old joke. Poor taste."_

"Oh... I-is that so?" Suddenly I wasn't quite certain about meeting AMBR, anymore. Outsiders were a strange, strange breed apart from the Horo-Sha. Other customs and cultures clashing... Was limb snapping the start of some courting ritual? "Forgive me for saying so, Reika, but you seem to have very... _odd_ friends."

 _"Yes. And I wouldn't have it any other way!"_ The diminutive huntress slapped her knee in explanation and declaration, one aimed just as much at herself as it was at me. I did jump a bit in place, however, when her other hand found my shoulder, squeezing it with a strength that I could tell, even now, far exceeded my own. _"And it makes sense. You are my friend, too, after all. Aren't you?"_

A withering look from my masked visage had her whistling, or trying to whistle without much more than a feeble blowing sound to show for it. Strange. When others had said such things, they had meant them as insults, reprimands, urging me to improve in some way, or to act in accord with my responsibilities.

Reika, however... She made the word sound almost like a compliment, or a term of endearment... How strange. "'Odd,' am I?" She smiled at the laughter in my voice, the first real smile I'd seen since we'd boarded the ship. "Hmm, I suppose there's worse things to be known for. You could have said I was 'clumsy,' maybe. Or 'bumbling.' Master seems to prefer that term."

 _"I would never dream of...!"_

"...Hmm? Reika?" She'd fumbled a sign, at least it seemed to me she had. Her concentration slipped a fraction, as if an insect were buzzing in her ear, violet eyes narrowing before closing altogether. "Reika? Is something the matter? Your wounds, a-are they...?" A raised finger immediately silenced my inquiries, the other hand, the one bearing her curious weapon, flexed despite herself.

 _"...Pino?... Was this vessel, boat, intended to act as part of a convoy? A group?"_ she clarified, signing again and again until sure I'd understood the meaning, or the meat of it, anyway.

"N-no... Not that I'm aware of, anyway." I was swiftly growing concerned, noting the edge in the young Huntress' demeanor, the shift I'd seen only a few times before, in training, and before a Grimm attack. "Though Lux perhaps might know something. It was he who negotiated the terms of travel." My shoulders tensed, drawing upon Reika's lessons with a brief effort of concentration that saw my own wafer-thin crimson Aura sparking to life for but an instant, just long enough to experience the rush of calm surety and power it offered. "Why? Is something the matter?"

 _"...Maybe. I cannot be sure,"_ she gestured, looking back towards the stern of the ship, and the far-off waves behind us, seeing something beyond sight. _"What I **do** know is that something has been following us for days now. Another boat, I think... No, **definitely.** "_

 _"_ And... t-that's a cause for concern?" Not even my Aura was able to keep the note of trepidation from my muffled tone, a cold chill running a path down my spine. An unsubtle reaction to the power exerted from her own soul, perhaps. A pressure I couldn't feel but could _feel_ pulsing around me.

Why I panicked? I had no idea. Two ships meeting on open waters, traveling alongside one another. Such a thing was hardly uncommon, I would imagine. Numbers meant strength, security. It was what had kept the Horo-Sha alive as a people for so long, despite the threat of the Grimm and a world made harsh without the touch of civilization. Those travelers of the ocean blue had to have something similar, yes?

 _"Maybe, but I can't be sure!"_ Reika repeated, more fiercely this time, getting to her feet, and checking the embedded Dust crystals of her gauntlet before rapping the enameled chest plate underneath her clothing, checking off some mental list. Just like she did before the Monsters attacked. _"Cannot be good."_

For my own cowardly role, I just sat there arms folded, propped against the cool wood of the hull, sweating in a way that had nothing to with the...

 _'...Wait a moment, where'd the sun go?'_

I looked about, side to side, up and down, recoiling at the sudden out-flowing mists that had appeared along the surface of the ocean, where once there had been nothing but crystal clear waters and brilliant skies. A wall that had grown from nothing to encompass everything.

Curling, twisting blooms of solidified moisture whirled about the air as if alive, sentient. Shapes swirled and billowed out like grasping hands seeking purchase. It rose higher and higher with a purpose no natural event could possess, at least none I had ever witnessed, surrounding the ship in a murky darkness that set more than one member of the crew and quite a few of my own people scrambling about the deck.

Many shouted frantic alarms, asked questions, or just stared open-mouthed at the strange phenomena coming to life before their disbelieving eyes.

 _"They're picking up speed now. Lots of it,"_ my friend rattled off, signs snapping like lightning so quickly, I could barely follow along at all. Her head was twitching, gazing about on all sides as what almost could have been laughter from a dozen, or even a hundred mouths, distorted and outrageously wild, began to echo through the fog. All around us, bearing down from above, from the sides, everywhere at once... even right behind me. _That_ made me jump and spin about, only to see nothing at all. _"Coming right for us!"_

"S-stuck in this mire like us, maybe?" I ventured in a shaking whisper, all but lost through the laughter, the music.

A wordless beat played in time now, pulsing through my senses. A jaunty deluge of drums and percussion sounds that joined the cackles, and in turn raised them ever higher. And whatever it was, Reika was right. It _was_ getting closer by the second.

It wasn't awful, though. If anything. it was almost... I rapped the forehead of my mask, hopefully knocking some sense back into my head.

"Perhaps..." I gulped, mouth dry and my tongue suddenly feeling too big for my mouth. "P-perhaps they're friendly?"

The look I received for that bit of naive hope was almost enough to stagger me on its own, like a physical blow, even without the sudden jerkiness of the waves beneath out feet, the chaos of crew members and officers struggling to maintain order. More than a few broke under the strain of the tune, panic affecting their actions, heightening tensions... Softening us up for what was to come, no doubt.

"..."

"...Right, right. Foolish question," I admitted more to myself than to her, shaking my head before the humming buzz of near silent engines joined the cacophony, audible only due in part to their proximity.

And then... then ship found itself suddenly very much under attack.

From then on, I was ashamed to say I didn't really register much at all.

* * *

 ** _-Reika Murasaki-_**

With my Semblance active and my _Sense_ extended outwards, I was able to detect the oncoming danger long before even Aura-enhanced hearing managed to pick out the sound of a motor from the crash of waves slamming against the hull, the shouts of panicked crewmen, and this "music" surrounding our vessel.

A rapidly approaching motor, at that, coming from...

"...!"

I dove forward, snatching hold of the front of Pino's robes, and tackling us both hard to the deck just as something thin, angular, and wickedly fast hummed overhead, riding the ocean spray. Its path suddenly filled the space the Horo-Sha had just vacated in a rush of buzzing propellers, and the smack of wind on thin fabric. My friend was groaning, dazed, but none the worse for wear, not that I had time to check.

All of my focus was fixed on the strange projectile, tracking it as the wind and its propulsion carried it well overhead of the deck, angling towards the clear opposite side of the boat.

It was all vague impressions. So fast did it disappear back into the mists, as if it had never been. A brightly-colored sail, affixed via rig, and a complex web of battens, wires, and metal rods all connected to a thin knife-shaped board. All bending to the will of a rider, that gave me a heartbeat's pause of incredulity.

If my Semblance was telling me anything... someone had been operating that thing!

And evidently, they weren't done, nor alone, going by the approaching motes of Soul light that flashed behind my eyes every time I concentrated. They were like lanterns in the dark, all converging at once like moths to a flame.

Similar rigs burst from the mist as little more than whooping shadows, flitting through the air across the deck in tight, if wildly executed formations, some barely clearing the heads of passengers, or even of each other in some cases. Complicated tricks and aerial displays only added more fuel to their apparent mirth, and from what I saw, it was almost as if they were competing more with each other than focusing on their prey.

Not that they were at all idle, most railing lines of slim chain or rope behind them, the riders tossing them in their passes, and cheering as the stuck home in the decking and rails. The lines already went taut as something pulled on them, a gloved hand clutching a slim silver saber came swinging up into view.

Many of the crew attempted to flee the lightly-armored figures clad in what I could see now were brightly-colored short coats and strips of cloth, with some even wearing what looked to be scavenged equipment from the Kingdoms, arms flailing, tripping over themselves, only to be herded along by cackling shadows and looming smiles bearing sword, ax, and pistol... banging them on railings, or against bucklers to add to the deafening noise with their 'song'.

The Horo-Sha, in comparison, acted far more composed, getting on their knees with hands over their heads, taking themselves out of the mayhem. They did not fight back, even when dragged to the side, or shoved from their attackers' way... No blood, thankfully. Not yet.

Calls about monsters in the mist were lost in the cacophony, only audible by my Aura-fueled awareness. Thing is, I could tell these were no Grimm. In fact, I knew exactly what they were.

How could I not? The audacity of the act, the attitude that no soldier would've born...

Bandits... No, _Pirates!_

 _'How ironic...'_ I mused, pulling a shaking Pino to his feet, or his knees more like. _'Is this... What did Miss Belladonna describe it as? 'Karma?''_

That revelation wasn't mine alone, it seemed. Some of the more level-headed sailors realized the threat immediately, and began scrambling to arm themselves with whatever they could get their hands on, or attempting unsuccessfully to move their kneeling passengers along.

Others burst up from the cabins below into the madness, clutching rifles and crude swords, which nevertheless would likely prove more effective than the bucket one of the men up here was flailing about with. Our captain was in his raised quarterdeck, no doubt already sounding a general alarm to all hands.

I was hopeful when they began taking aim, despite the odd feeling it was to actually be rooting against the thieves in this situation. Turns out I needn't have bothered, the rigs returning once more, looped lassos snatching hold of rifle-bearing sailors in particular, and dragging them overboard as if on the tendrils of some massive beast to be consumed by the mist.

Others fell, crying out with knives and other projectiles buried into shoulders or thighs, or under the weight of pirates suddenly among them, grappling them to the deck or putting them there with focused blows. Men who had ridden along with those strange aerial mist cutters, and had leapt off mid-flight with coordinated precision.

"C'mon, you lads!" One of the newcomers, a red-faced, red-haired mountain of a man with more tattoos and gleaming metal ring piercings scattered across his heavily muscled bare arms and torso than clear flesh, called to his fellows. "Take this prize! _For Harper and plunder!_ " Their leader, then, always the loudest with these types, hoisting a thick cleaver-like sword as tall as I was in one meaty hand.

A shifting weapon. No doubt about it, studded further with bulky metal armor plating with a long barrel worked along the back that could've belong to a cannon.

It certainly worked like a cannon, anyway, the sounds of gears grinding and sparking signaling its shift from sword to brutal under-slung firearm, the Dust projectile within blowing a smoking hole clean in the deck floor, sending armed crew flying in clouds of splinters to land dazed on the deck, and barely stirring. That shot signaling the others to charge in a tidal wave, swiftly closing the distance those stunned crewmen still standing or fighting in desperate scuffles of their own with renewed vigor.

 ** _"FOR HARPER AND PLUNDER!"_**

Their leader marched forward then in their wake, placing his devastating shots carefully, so as not to damage the ship or any bystanders unduly, bellowing orders at the top of his lungs. The others rallied around him, which meant I had to take him down if we were to have any hope of...

"Reika!"

A hand fell on my shoulder as I unconsciously made to rise and join the fray, years in the Badlands watching Ben's back, often involving leaping into a scrum head first, driving me on. Frowning, my head turned to see Pino's crimson visage looking back at me, eyes wide behind the fabric slits in his mask. A cursory pass with my Semblance, near instantaneous at this distance, showed me both fear and concern.

He worried about me. He knew what I was planning...

"You can't! There's too many!" His voice was pleading, and his stance... his stance almost perfectly mirrored the others of his kind, an unwillingness to fight back. "Just stay down! Maybe they'll...!"

I smiled at him, even as I brushed his grasp aside with strength he couldn't hope to match, holding up a hand to stop him from following. _"Stay down. Be back soon."_

And then, to his yelping surprise, that hand shot forward, taking hold of a spar of railing directly next to his head. I wrenched the piece of metal free with an Aura-fueled jerk of my arm, and hurled it behind me in the same motion without even looking. Spinning and whistling end over end, it soared right into the path of one of those curious flying crafts as it made to pass over once more with another trailing length of chain.

Striking the target just as intended, it sheared through the length of fabric that acted as a sail, and all but tore it from its connection with the board, more than adequate enough to send it, and both the unfortunate pirates it bore, pitching over the side of the ship to vanish screaming into the roiling wall of vapor, lost from sight.

 _'That's two lowlifes down with one spar. Good start...'_

One pirate, a lanky soul with a long beard smoking from what looked to be lit fuses woven within it, gaped openly. Right before my boot slammed down on his chest, and bore him down with enough strength to send cracks spider webbing in the wooden boards beneath, leaving me standing with a new groaning foot rest for my efforts.

 _'Three. Making progress...'_ Still, it was too slow. Best to speed this along.

The craft's demise had drawn the eyes of both those few crew still standing and pirate alike towards me as I rolled the arm bearing _Iron Blossom_ to loosen my shoulder, relaxing the muscles, and easing my posture forward with a heady sigh. Of course, I was sure to give the pirate beneath me one last good stomp to the ribs before taking my stance, and holding out a hand playfully.

"..."

I cocked my head at the gawping leader and his assembled band, adding a "come hither" gesture that I recalled seeing Maxine make against the White Fang in a similar situation many, many months ago in much the same situation, and eliciting almost the exact same results.

Predictable, really...

 _"_ A Huntress!? Here!?" The cannon-wielding Mountain jabbed a finger towards me, his words catching the attention of every pirate not currently in the fight or holding a prisoner down, and turning it my way. "Well!? _Get her!_ "

"Ya'll heard Florid! _CHAAAAAARGE!_ "

Bandits and Pirates. Similar working styles all around. _'Take out the biggest threat with overwhelming firepower... Isn't that quaint.'_ Good thing Ben and Bill's antics gave me plenty of experience dealing with this sort of thing... The _proper_ way.

 _'Now all I need is a half-naked Carson, a bit of sand, maybe a bottle or two, and this will all start looking even more familiar...'_ I smirked, which, if anything, only made the mob sprint faster, adopting some semblance of grouping, cutting off my paths to escape. _'So I make one, simple enough.'_

"Alright, lassie, just _hold still!_ " the first screaming pirate to reach me cried out, gap-toothed, foul-smelling, and shabby enough to make me think of home. A silvery forked knife, possessive of the same metallic luster as Joel's _Storm Circuit,_ shifted quickly into a long and wicked spear, jingling and jangling with wooden charms and glinting coins as it aimed for my legs, matching the motion of the partner beside him exactly as he struck for the arm bearing my weapon. _"_ Hahahaaa- _uuuuck!?_ "

It was well coordinated, an attack that would've worked on any normal foe. Such a shame they only struck air, their target having jumped long before she'd been in any real danger. The chimes so similar to the bells only made his weapon more predictable, and shiny, too. Ben would've loved it.

 _'They want me alive, just like the others.'_

My mind raced trying to determine the reasoning even as I fell, boots landing on the back of their heads, and kicking off a moment late, sending them both crashing on either side of Pino, who could only look on in awed stupefaction as I laid into the group head on, a wistful smile clear as day on my face. One that swiftly turned to a confident silent snarl.

Kicks struck joints and collarbones, propelling me off my unfortunate falling victims into shoulders and punches that sent pirates flying like ragdolls. Compared to dodging the broad sides of tree trunks and maneuvering through webs of rope lines and netting, this was simple footwork and leverage. I didn't even feel the need to use my gauntlet's abilities, simply letting it block blows I couldn't avoid, and letting them move me along like the current striking our deck.

I ducked past even the tight swings and stabs of sword and spear they used by sometimes a mere hair's breadth, my height only aiding me in weaving through the melee, toppling pirates like dominoes.

Why, it was almost like skipping through the park, or over juvenile Death Stalker pits or Taijitsu nests back home in the Badlands. Easy enough once you knew the trick to it, if a bit dangerous.

 _'Ma would be so proud...'_

My Semblance only made it easier to map my course through the fight, picking out each soul as it moved and felt, charting every blow. Using their own efforts to propel me further along to the next and the next, concentration and focus in perfect sync with motion.

Knee the scowling woman with the fancy hat in the face, roll over her unconscious body to jab the bloated, one-eyed sod draped head to toe in thick, garishly adorned ceramics in the back of his knee, jump up and use his buckler as a kick board to force him down further. Repeat as necessary with a shoulder charge that threw back three more, thrown in for flare.

Simple... Right up until I realized I was standing alone with a pile of unconscious goons behind me, staring down the barrel of this Florid's cannon. Then things got interesting.

"Well, you're certainly somethin' different, aren'tcha, lass? Captain'll just _love_ you!"

I was about to sign just what I thought of him and his captain when a pearly white smile split his broad features, finger depressing the trigger, and sending a Dust-tipped slug screaming right towards me. I might have heard Pino's cry of alarm, or what could have been the all-consuming roar of a ship horn.

Things got a little scattered after I had the bright idea of punching the projectile from the air.

 _Iron Blossom's_ knuckle Dust crystals lit up like miniature stars at the point of contact, the weapon burning white hot, vents clattering open along its length, but doing just as it had been designed to accomplish: stopping the spiraling projectile perfectly in its tracks for a fraction of a second in perfect stasis before our eyes. Just long enough for the redhead's eyes to bulge before everything exploded outwards, sending us both skirting backwards across the raw wood and metal of the decking.

Unfortunate pirates and more than a few passengers cried out as they were blasted backwards by the over-pressure, though thankfully it seemed that only criminals found themselves unlucky enough to go sailing over the sides and into the ocean below, swallowed by the impenetrable wall of swirling haze that held us in its grasp.

I, for one, recovered quickly, rolling to reduce the damage, and get back on my feet, or at least a knee, quickly. A good thing, too, because next thing I knew, I was sidestepping the chopping arc of a massive cleaver, barely able to stay one step ahead with the Pirate Leader barreling forward, using his size and reach to a startlingly graceful advantage.

If there had been any doubts this man was a skilled Aura user, all were dispelled by the flowing arcs of even that massive weapon, each stroke angled to ward off a kick of an elbow, the flat of the blade harmlessly batting aside _Blossom,_ of which he was now _very_ wary of.

And each glancing blow... Gods, even the man's parries were enough to send me staggering, let alone a head on blow. His weapon howled as it shifted forms suddenly, setting me on the run while he blasted holes around me, closing the distance before I could recover with the cleaver once more.

Definitely a former Huntsman, or the closest thing to it outside the Kingdoms.

 _'Though he's still not moving to finish me off...'_

I gritted my teeth when a backhand caught me across the face, aborting my attempts to get close yet again. _'Why?'_ I had to be sure, even giving him the perfect opening, purposefully letting my foot slip on the salt slick timber, and yet he didn't go for it.

Ether that meant he was far smarter, and far more skilled, than I was giving him credit for, or he had orders not to cause undue harm that he was intent on following, even if doing so meant I got to deliver a pretty clean blow to his inked-up midsection to punish him for the lapse. I was upside down, hair and bells whipping about my face wildly - though I was long past needing my eyes to track my opponents moves - when I had the idea.

"You little...! Grr, just... _gah-ive up!_ "

" _...!_ "

If he wasn't going to finish me off, then I would use that against him. So I abandoned defense, earning a rather deep cut across my arm that if he hadn't stopped himself might've removed it entirely.

By the expression on his ruddy face, he figured out what I was intending, long before my arm kept moving, freeing itself from the blade with a slight spritz of crimson, and crashing headlong against his stomach, the air seeming almost to cease once more, before I kept pushing forward against the forces colliding, blowing back what mist had seeped on board in an explosion of raw pressure, and the clash of Aura on Aura.

I'll give the man his due credit, he was completely silent as he was shot backwards away from me with the velocity of one of his cannon rounds, smashing backwards straight into the mast, leaving a sizable dent before slumping down the foot of the structure, head lolling with spittle dribbling down into his beard.

One could have cut the atmosphere of those last few seconds with a knife, every eye watching in some disbelief of the events before them. The larger Florid was defeated, and tiny little me was staggering, but with my head held high - even if I was heaving relieved sighs - victorious.

"...!"

I let my arm hang down at my side, the wound I'd received already healing, thankfully, glaring about at those pirates still standing, and, satisfied that they weren't going to attack further, bowed my head to my fallen foe respectfully in acknowledgement.

"...Well now, _that,_ I certainly wasn't expecting!"

A lilted voice sounded right next to my ear, my head turning so fast, I was shocked I didn't snap my own neck in my haste. It ached, but that didn't matter, leaping backwards, arms raised defensively.

All that did that moment was make me face the lanky rogue of a man, dressed in a long, half-open velvet frock coat the most brilliant shade of blue I'd ever seen over a fine white silk shirt, and sashes laden with lace and silver embroidery. One who had somehow gotten behind me, and leaned down to look over my shoulder despite my _Sense_ and the metallic silver greaves he bore on his feet.

The newcomer straightened up at my retreat, running a ring-laden hand through long curling black hair too stiff to be wholly natural, eyes the same blue as that garish coat staring back at me from an unassuming face, all cheekbones and sharp angles. Not too handsome, not too plain. Ageless, really...

A frown crossed his thin mouth when he gazed about the deck, namely at the men I'd left in my wake. Not mad, at least not from what I could tell. More... _intrigued._ Problem was, now that I could sense him, even if his signature was somewhat hard to pin down...

"This either. You really did quite a number on my people, didn't y...!?"

I was in the air and rocketing towards him in a heartbeat before he could even finish what little introduction he'd planned, fist drawn back, and aiming to hopefully at least succeed in finishing this in one well-timed blow, just as I had his man. Hasty, yes, but necessary in my opinion. Whoever this person was, I could tell from his Aura alone that he was far above me. Perhaps not on the level of Marigold, or what I recalled of Headmaster Ozpin, but close to it.

But the punch didn't land...

"Now, now, that was just uncalled for!"

Eyebrows rising, I hit the deck hard and rolled, coming up into a crouch in time to see this newcomer fall weightless from the air - far slower than one should have, anyway - in front of Florid lying several feet away, like the air itself was loathe to let him go. He leaned over the man, brow furrowed before reaching out and flicking the man's forehead with a long-nailed finger.

The pirate bounced back to life in a huffing uproar of spittle and grunts before settling at the sight of the grin on the other man's face. "C-C- _Captain Harper! Sir!_ "

"The Cap'n...? The Cap'n! It's Cap'n Majorelle!"

"Haha! A party now, eh!?"

"You're done, girlie! Payback for Florid!"

 _'Captain!?'_ I tensed, finally realizing the sense of awe and respect rippling through our boarders crying out their applause or rapping weapons on the faces of shields or metal surfaces, and the way they stared at the man. This "Harper."

 _'Just like how the boys used to look at Bill back then. The Hangman...'_ I myself remembered making such an expression as they did now, always after some daring act of courage, or seemingly boundless score on the old bandit's part. And all stopped as the Captain raised a hand, without even looking back at them, ruffians and scoundrels silenced in seconds.

"Glad to see you still with us, Mister Florid." Harper acknowledged his man with an easy nod, stopping the man as he tried to clamber to his feet, almost toppling over as a result, sword falling from shaking fingers. "Seems you enjoyed yourself with our lovely new friend there, though maybe just a _hair_ bit too much. Wouldn't you agree?"

I felt my cheeks burn irritably as he flashed a roguish smile my way. The very same one Ben used to use whenever I'd caught him doing something he really rather shouldn't. _'No, similar... but just done better.'_

I wanted to punch him even more now.

"Agh... Sorry 'bout that, Captain." Florid eased back against the mast, wincing as he felt at his side gingerly. "Lass hits like an Ursa. Rarely seen the like."

"I noticed. Don't trouble yourself overmuch. I was the one who'd wanted this clean and bloodless, after all." He looked about at the prisoners his passengers had taken, bruised and scared, but all alive. Now that I was free to look about, I saw others being pulled up over the sides, Pirate and Crew alike, shivering from their trip overboard to the ocean below. "Can't fault a man for following his orders to the letter, but you can for not expecting a half decent Huntress to be aboard. My mistake, old friend."

He patted the man on the head with a chuckle, and spun on his heel to face me, marching forward with his hands clasped loosely behind his back. "Her manners do need some work, though. Now, as I was saying. You did quite a number on my men. Impressive." He shrugged his shoulders and clicked his heels together in a casual salute. "Captain Harper Majorelle, also called the Strider, Captain of the Colorless Prism, Merchant Prince of the Frontier Port City of Mooring, Explorer of the vast oceans of Remnant, Grand Admiral, and so on, and so on..."

He blew a stray lock of hair out of his face with an almost embarrassed shrug.

"But those are just titles. Sordid things tend to pile up tall where I'm from. Names, though, _that's_ what important! Yours, for example?" He waited, the both of us standing in awkward silence as the wind blew, and voices began to mutter amidst themselves from those onlookers observing. Another frown, pensive and curious this time as he waved a hand. "Um... It's you turn, lass. Announce yourself."

And I did... by charging forward again.

Maybe a bit played out by this point, but it was the best plan I had. And it wasn't like they'd be able to understand me anyway. Harper had mentioned the Frontier. That alone was concerning. That they were navigating the ocean ways between Mistral and Vale, though given the rumors the Horo-Sha had picked up along the way...

" _...!_ " I growled silently, flipping and dancing, using every unpredictable angle and agile move I possessed to try and catch him off guard.

"Hey, whoa!... Ah, Lassie!... Hold up, I just...!" Despite the frantic nature of his words, he was dodging and skirting my attacks with pathetic ease. Side-stepping a punch aimed for his groin, leaping neatly above a striking heel, ducking back almost horizontal to avoid jab after jab, dancing around me like I was moving slow. "Alright, now this...! Ooh-kay, now...! This is...! _Enough!_ "

Refusing to let his ramblings distract me, I braced my feet and struck true, uncaring if I wound up pulverizing his fancily-jeweled chest by this point with all the Aura I was exerting to enhance my movements, _Iron Blossom_ striking with the speed of a Taijitsu, only for my opponent to jump up just as I had those first pirates, coming down to land on my glowing fist... and just standing there, utterly weightless on the back of my quivering palm.

All I could do was gape then, disbelieving...

"Are you quite finished?" I glanced up at the face looking down at me before I was suddenly buffeted back across the timber, cheek stinging and head ringing from the kick he'd laid across both. The man himself tapping to the deck lightly a moment later. "Because I am. Little ball of energy, aren't you?"

 _'W-what the...!?'_

I shook out my head, attempting to rise, only to fall back to my hands and knees, the world swaying dangerously beneath me, or maybe that was just the waves. My balance was gone, and moreover, I was trying to figure out what I'd just been hit with, because whatever it was had felt more like I'd taken a bad blow from one of those swinging practice logs than some simple kick.

 _'I have to get up... I have to fight! I have to...!?'_

All thought vanished as a boot landed gently across my back and pressed down, one moment light as a feather, the next like an Ursa Major had just sat on me. My ribs creaked under the pressure, driving me into the ship itself.

"Alright, enough. I'll try this again..." Captain Harper's voice sounded from above me, no longer amused or playful, just tired, and perhaps a bit annoyed. "All I want is to put a name to the pretty face. C'mon, now, speak up. I know you've got something to say."

* * *

 ** _"...I just KNEW you had something to say...!"_**

My back burned white hot with sudden wrathful fury that sent tears streaming down paling cheeks, those words pounding through my senses in a different voice. Suddenly, I wasn't on a no-name ship on the way to Anima. I was back at Beacon, surrounded by monsters, with the cruelest of all searing its name slowly on me as it laughed...

 _'No... No, no, no nononononoNO! STOP IT! Stop hurting me! STOP HURTING ME! STOP! Not again. Not again! Help me! Somebody help me!_ _PLEASE HELP ME!'_

* * *

Someone was screaming. Someone... Me?

I was howling, wordless terror spilling from my lips as I kicked, flailed, and struggled, Majorelle's face a stark mask of shock and non-understanding.

"L-lass, it's... It's just a name! I won't...!?" He took his foot off me quickly and I scrambled forward on hands and knees, chest heaving with seared, smoke-filled lungs, heart racing as I couldn't help but tremble, suddenly light-headed, and covered head to toe in sweat, stomach reeling. Far more so than before.

Control. I needed to reassert myself. I needed...

" _Get away from her!_ "

Pino's voice cut through the haze, I blinked. Even the act of moving to look felt like fighting against the weight of the world, but I could see. See a figure wearing a crimson mask swinging wildly at the Captain. Not even coming close to hitting, just trying to ward him away from me, possessing no form, no grace, as if this were the first time he'd ever...

 _'Oh no... Oh, Pino! Don't...!'_

More shouting, Lux's voice now joining the din.

I saw the Healer drop what I realized was the jingling forked spear from trembling hands, looking between the weapon at his feet and Lux, who stood at the door to the lower decks looking like he'd just been sucker punched, the young Horo-Sha being tackled to the ground.

More words... Everything sounded so dull, so far away.

I propped myself upwards with the last of my strength, catching sight of something massive tearing its way free of the strange mist, casting it aside with contemptible ease.

A ship of wood and metal both, the prow alone, shaped into the likeness of some terrifying sea beast, all mouth and hammer-headed spectacle, appeared capable of tearing through any obstacle.

It's bulk from keel to stern festooned in colored cloths of various designs, great tapestries for sails, and the rumble of turbines that I was shocked couldn't have been heard for miles as it chopped through the ocean... But that was all the depth it had, those accents practically the only reason I had any sense of scale at all in the mist. The ship itself... colorless.

And then... Then all I knew was simply black.

* * *

 _ **-**_ **E** **ND**

* * *

 **-OC Voice Cast Introduced this Chapter-**

Nestor Florid - Beau Billingslea

* * *

 **A/N: Pirates and RWBY, kind of shocked something like this hasn't already been in the show. Bandits exist, but no pirates as of yet, hope that changes at some point. Lots of ways they can go about it.**

 **Oh and Reika's not dead, just confirming that after Last weeks episode.**

 **Anyway, hope y'all enjoyed the first chapter of the new year and thank you for the continuing support. - Mojo**

* * *

 _ **(Next Chapter: A visitor on Patch Island)**_


	11. Chapter 11

**Edited as of (9/17/19)**

 **PB: Da-Awesom-One**

* * *

AN UNWELCOME VISITOR

* * *

 ** _-Yang Xiao Long-_**

 _The hall was burning. **Everything** was burning..._

 _I stumbled my way across broken cobblestones with only watering eyes to guide me, passing by shattered windows that offered only more views of flames and lumbering dark shapes stalking through the smoke, out on the hunt._

 _Monsters were attacking, Creatures of Grimm everywhere I looked. This wasn't right. I was a Huntress. I had to stop them. It was **my job** to stop them. But I had to find everyone else, and make sure they were safe. Joel, Blake, Ruby..._

 _These thoughts and a hundred others tumbled through my frantic mind, all lost as a ragged howl split the air and rattled me to the bone. Clearly bestial, yet different from that of any Grimm I'd ever heard before, but that didn't matter. What else could it have been? One of them had gotten inside, looking for an easy target. An easy meal._

 _Too bad it was about to be sorely disappointed on both counts!_

 _ **Ember Celica** sprang into sudden activation along my forearms with a whirring clamor that proved to be absolute music to my ears. Anything to block out the worries in my head, the memories of a similar place, of a similar night, of a swordsman with a crimson blade made only more so after he..._

 _ **'No, no, focus!'** I wouldn't run. Not this time!_

 _Shaking my head out in a shower of tumbling gold, I fell into the easy familiar stance just as I had a hundred - no - a **thousand** times before. It was both pure instinct, and calming all at once. My eyes flashed their brilliant red as I let my Aura take hold with a comforting warmth that didn't quite beat off that of the world around me._

 _It didn't matter. I simply swayed on the balls of my feet, watching, waiting for the slightest hint of..._

 _A flash of motion on my left, racing low and fast, but not nearly fast enough. My gauntlet-clad fist lunged forwards like a spring, throwing all into the motion just as I did everything else, a shotgun blast coupling with the * **snap** * of breaking bone as it struck true, striking something that was most certainly not a Grimm._

 _Something that screamed..._

 _"My leg!" Mercury Black writhed and squirmed on the ground, clutching at the shattered limb, gazing up at me in horror. " **MY LEG**!" I hesitated, fist shaking uncontrollably._

 _He was faking it, just as he had everything else._

 _I knew deep down that it wasn't real. Ruby had told me so. Told me what that little rat and those he worked for had used me for. Now that I'd heard it again, even I could tell, and hated the little faker all the more for it._

 _I wanted him gone. To disappear, and take back everything that he'd done to me!_

 _Snarling, my drew back fist once again, intent on breaking a lot more than just a leg with this next punch if only I could... But I couldn't. The arm was simply gone in a blinding flash of crimson._

 _A scream ripped itself from my throat at the sight of the bandaged stump, at the sheer wrongness of it, staggering backwards from the masked monster that had taken the liar's place, striding towards me with his weapon held at his side._

 _I had to run. I had to **get away!...** No, I had to fight! I had to...! I **had** to...!_

 _My heel caught on the edge of something and I fell, tumbling gracelessly to the floor with a cry of alarm. Looking back at what I'd tripped over, I recoiled at the sight of what laid before me, bodies littering the floor, dozens of them spread out, staring back at me as if silently judging. There were students among them, soldiers clutching rifles, regular people just trying to flee, even the off White Fang uniform mixed among the fallen. The only thing they had in common was the look of fear written across their faces._

 _" **YANG!** "_

 _And I wasn't alone with them, I noticed._

 _"J-Joel...?" At least I thought it was Joel as I caught a flash of blue and white coming from the figure running towards me. " **Joel!** Joel, I'm here!"_

 _The young man moved haphazardly amidst the macabre garden, punching, kicking, flipping, and sparking._

 _He was thrashing about with wild abandon, absent the usual fervor and thin veneer of control I was accustomed to seeing from him, struggling to ward off a host of living shadows contorted into the shapes of men, Grimm, and all in between. All so he could push past them and get to me. Things flitted about towards him when his weapon, **Storm Circuit,** struck true, and it had struck from all sides._

 _Black splotches hit him every time he violently landed a hit, the darkness spreading out and coalescing like slime every time his weapon made contact, as if attempting to consume him, leaving their mark in searing dark patches across his form that almost seemed to take shape, forming ridges of plate._

 _Even as I watched, one of the shades dragged its claws across his back, the Huntsman loosing a ragged, throat-tearing howl that I recognized as the same sound from before, the torturous, distorted howl ripping itself free from the mask's grille._

 _That's when I realized he **was** wearing a mask. His face was now covered in a dark, featureless mask. Featureless, except for the red hand print stamped across its surface, anyway._

 _This wasn't right... Not right at all. I had to help him. I had to do **something!**_

 _...But I didn't. I **couldn't...** And soon enough, the Huntsman was all but consumed, only to tear himself free, now clad fully in the form-fitting dark armor of his past profession. The Trapper in truth, now._

 _My eyes fell to the stump where my arm had once been, then at the other, shaking and weak. Frozen, I could only stand by and watch helplessly as the Trapper that had been Joel fought on, clutching at the shadows in powerful hands twisted into gloved claws, like some kind of thing possessed, **Storm Circuit** long abandoned._

 _It frightened me. It wasn't him... It didn't feel like..._

 _The mask turned to face me almost desperately, and I sensed nothing. Nothing at all. None of the heart and joy I'd have imagined from him, nor the smug arrogance of Adam Taurus. Just... **nothing.**_

 _"Joel?..." That was when he leapt at me, growling like an animal, hands grasping outward eagerly, seeking my throat...! "Joel, **NO...!** "_

* * *

" _Uwaagh!_ "

Crimson-tinged eyes snapped open as I sprang upward so fast, my whole world swooned for a few dangerous heartbeats, especially seeing as I tried once again to steady myself with my right hand, forgetting once again, as I so often did, that it wasn't there anymore, almost going over the side.

My good hand - my _only_ remaining hand - clutched for the side table beside my bed so hard, the knuckles had gone white. Wood creaked under trembling fingertips until I all but tore them away from the piece.

It was well into the afternoon, the sun shining in earnest over the treeline, filling my room with a soft light that did nothing for the all-pervading cold shivering its way down my spine.

That was the worst. I hated the shaking chill that ran down my remaining limbs, the arrhythmic pounding in my chest. Breathing itself had become little more than a ragged series of gasps, my throat feeling closed off, clamped down upon as though the Huntsman... the dream _thing_ that had stolen Huntsman's shape, anyway, had truly managed to snatch a hold of me.

 _'It's just a dream!'_

I declared that fact loudly in my mind, brow furrowing at the attempt to beat down panic with reason, the efforts failing abysmally.

It didn't matter if it wasn't real, if that Trapper thing hadn't truly existed. I couldn't seem to get it out of my head, and struggling only made the pain in my chest tighten all the more. My vision clouded over slightly from lightheadedness.

 _'It can't hurt me.'_

Joel... A flash of blue and silver caught my attention, drawing my gaze down to the thin corded braid banded across my remaining wrist.

A small thing, maybe, but it had been the last gift Joel had given me before he left, off to do what he had to do for reasons as noble as some might call them foolish.

It had been made by hand, lovingly so, with an attention detail I hadn't quite expected from the former Trapper.

A cultural craft from his homeland, an ' _Adanhe-whatsit_.' I wasn't quite sure what it meant, true, but I could guess.

Namely Dad's reaction when I'd first stepped down the stairs that next morning, the man slaving over a big breakfast to share, and offering a shoulder to cry on. The minute he'd laid eyes on the accessory, however, I knew something was up.

Not that he'd tell me, of course. No, that'd be too easy.

All he did was growl something about an 'overzealous promise' before nodding his assent, at least I think he did. That's when I realized what it had meant to accept this, my teeth having clenched as I contemplated between kissing and decking the young man. Maybe both.

Probably both... It was kind of hard to tell, these last few days.

Bringing my shuddering wrist to my forehead, blocking out the thoughts as best I could, I closed my eyes against the flashes of bitter memories playing unbidden on repeat and focused. On where I was, what I was doing...

"I'm okay..." The declaration spilled from my lips in a whisper, sounding unsure. It wasn't good enough. Not by far. "I'm _okay!_ " I grunted, more firmly this time, drawing in a deep calming breath just like Joel had shown me, allowing the meditation to work through its calming steps. "Not too hot, not too cold..." The mantra was silly, but it gave me something to cling to, something to hold me steady. "...Not too hot, not too cold... Just right."

My eyelids fluttered open, the pressure on my chest lifting if only just, attention playing across the smooth mechanical architecture of the prosthetic limb sitting on the side table only inches away from where my good hand had been.

Different, though still similar to how I recalled Ben Carson's being. Beautiful in its own way, and deceptively well-designed, the weight of the metal socket embedded in my arm almost pulling me towards it, fingers caressing the smooth material, the embedded workings.

Then the ache, the flash of red... and I flinched back, shaking my head slowly.

 _'Not today... Not yet...'_

* * *

The day had gone off from there well enough, despite the late start.

Dad had been his usual cheery self, joking around and trying to pretend, for my sake, that things were still the old fashioned 'normal' he remembered. Something I appreciated and loved him for, though it was kind of hard not to see the cracks, and the way he never seemed to leave the house for long anymore.

Or worse, the flicker of panic in his eyes every time he saw me struggling with chores, offering to help while cracking some pun at my expense, or some excuse I couldn't quite believe as to why he could do it instead of me.

When Mom and Summer had left, he'd treated Ruby and I like kids, even when we'd both proven a hundred times over that we'd been capable of handling ourselves well enough. Calling him a 'Helicopter parent' might have been an understatement, always there, always worrying over every little thing we did.

Now he wasn't even doing that, treating me instead like I was glass.

I didn't like it, but he couldn't help himself. He was coping, too. And he had been far worse before...

So I bore it for the moment. Which is how I wound up sitting on the couch, thumbing my way through the day's latest surprise.

A letter, different from the usual missives from the Council calling for Dad to report in for assignments, reports and word from Vale, or the occasional love letter for Qrow. I'd known it the moment I'd picked it out from the stack, a smile of anticipation, and a tiny bit of hesitation, though I'd never admit it. My fingers shakily felt at the parchment, worn down by the efforts of reaching me, the name written across the top in the familiar graceful hand.

After taking a full five minutes to let it sink in that this was not a figment of my imagination, that I wasn't still dreaming - basically coming to terms with the fact that the letter before me was _real_ \- I'd absorbed its contents eagerly, smile faltering at some bits, only to build again to new heights at others.

Not that there hadn't been a few sighs and angry grunts along with them. Now... Now I just sat there, caught between relief and disbelief all in one. I was trying to think through it sensibly, without the fluttering in my chest.

 _"...stumbled across a few new recipes I'm sure would bring tears to Ruby's eyes if she knew I'd been practicing. Can't really send anything along with this, but I hope she's managing alright with that store-bought junk. I know I spoiled her a bit on the homemade front."_

So... Joel didn't know about Ruby, or about what she'd been planning. That she'd... No, how could he have?

Still, it would've been some kind of relief to know it wasn't just our uncle looking out for her well-being. With a bit of difficulty, I turned my thoughts away from my sister, reading on.

 _"...luck on my search just yet, dead end after dead end. But I haven't given up hope of finding what I'm looking for. Of bringing our friends back. Of coming home._

 _Just a bit longer, Yang. I promise. Just a bit longer. Stay safe, Sunshine._

 _\- With love, Joel"_

'Home.' He'd called this place a home. _His_ home.

"Big, stupid, wonderful lug..." Didn't mean I still wasn't going to deck him for making me worry.

My jaw tensed at that, crinkling edges of the worn parchment as I ran a thumb... _my_ thumb, across the bunched-up script, _his_ writing. Tangible proof that the Huntsman was out there, somewhere, still on his journey.

Not hurt, or in a ditch on the side of the road, at least.

I tossed the parchment on the table and leaned back, staring absently at the ceiling, arm behind my head.

That was a comfort, especially with everything on the news lately, or the looks I snatched off the reports Dad got from Professor Oobleck and others. Word of the White Fang trying to salvage what little clout it had left, turning its back on what had happened to Vale, calling it the 'actions of one radical member.' The Red Hand and the Frontier storming forth into the Kingdoms, threatening to upset the fragile peace that had held since the end of the Great War.

Joel's first home, his first life, his own uncle, coming to tear down the new life he'd tried so hard to build for himself, even if indirectly, with little the Huntsman could do about it. I could only imagine how that sort of pressure felt on his shoulders.

Not to mention the Grimm - always the Grimm - lurking beyond the walls in their hordes, numberless, and seemingly more unstoppable than ever before, lately. The strength of the Huntsmen and Huntresses were all that kept them at bay; from consuming us all. And they weren't invincible. Not by a long shot.

My stump ached once more, as if in response to my thoughts.

Those letters were the hardest on Dad, the ones bearing tidings of friends and colleagues lost in this strange new world, and more came in every day. Watching his face fall, his knuckles whiten... It just made it all the more unbearable to know I was the only thing keeping him here.

I spared a glance at Taiyang Xiao Long, the man humming a song to himself as he brewed a fresh pot of tea over the stove. He winced, burning himself on the side of the pot on accident when he noticed me watching, grinning despite himself, and waving, if a little awkwardly.

"Everything alright, kiddo?" He cocked his head towards the letter. "Good news?"

"...Yeah. Yeah, I think so."

 _'No. No, that's not fair... Or true.'_

At least I hoped it wasn't so as I returned the look, a knock sounding at the door shattering the moment, if providing a decent distraction.

"I'll get it!" I said quickly, already on my feet before Dad could say otherwise, the man just smiling and reaching for more cups just in case we had company.

A rare thing these days, even though most of Dad's friends were nearby, all hard at work in Vale. All of mine... I bit back a pang of bitterness, burying it beneath my best attempt at a welcoming smile as I turned the knob.

"Can I help you with any... _J-Joel!?_ "

No, the man standing on the door with hands clasped behind his back, dressed in all black and grey from the fancy frock coat to thick boots except for the silvery accents and piping that littered his gear, wasn't Joel Ambrose. The hair was wrong, for a start, light chestnut brown slicked back from his face, with swathes of grey just barely tinging the temples.

And the eyes - well... _eye_ \- one being covered by a leather patch that ran to his ear, attached to the band running around his forehead. The other almost seemed to glow with a deep piercing violet, not like Joel's determined storm blues at all.

But the face... That face gave me pause, causing me to do a double take. It was so like my boyfriend's that it was almost as if I were staring at a mirror of what Joel would look like if he were older. Especially the way he smiled when he saw me, a hand rising to scratch at the back of his head in a perfect imitation of the young man's habit.

Blinking away my amazement at the uncanny resemblance, I finally took note of those that stood beside him, practically flanking him on either side.

They were all dressed similarly, with a handful more taking up position on the porch and in the front yard, all tensed and noticeably standing, with hands on weapons, as if expecting a fight, be they strange boxy sword hilts at their belts, or bulky pistols that looked like they could blow the head off an Ursa in one shot. All plated in...

 _'I know that silver...'_

...I instantly knew what they were, or at least _who_ they were with... But why? For Joel?

The man with jet black hair pulled back into a ponytail standing directly next to the look-alike was even looking over a sleek metal gauntlet that ran the length of his forearm. The weapon smith in me noted the compressed crossbow and firing mechanism worked within the design at a glance, and the gloved hand tapping at it that I got the sense was just a bit _too_ well armored itself to be wholly harmless, either. Not even bothering to count the bandoleer of quarrels, and the dagger hanging off his belt.

He looked plenty dangerous enough as it was, without the sharp pointy bits.

All of that was gleaned within moments, my fist clenching and easing calmly in rapid succession, my heart racing as my instincts picked out targets based on stance and readiness.

" _Yang? Yang, who is it!? Be polite! Tell 'em I've got drinks coming!_ "

Who to go for first, who to avoid, who to...? What was I going to do? I had no arm, no weapons... Nothing.

"...You must be Miss... Yang Xiao Long, yes?" the violet-eyed man spoke up in a voice that sounded so assured, another similarity to Joel, that it once again caught me off guard, making me blink even as I nodded along dumbly. "Ah, you are. Good."

The visitor looked to what I could only assume to be his bodyguards, clapping his hands together and smiling even broader now, though they only gave him terse nods in return.

For my part, I just maintained the calm, determined stare of someone who wasn't going to be cowed by some goons, just like Uncle Qrow had taught me. Not backing down an inch.

"...Sorry, can I... help you?"

One of the bodyguards might've scoffed, glancing at the arm and my noticeably lopsided appearance, only to choke up to attention when their leader's gaze fell on him, his manner darkening to such a point even I had to take a hasty step back.

"Your courage does you credit. I can see why Joel's so taken with you."

He bowed his head, ignoring the sudden alarm and motion in my stance at the mention of Joel's name, though his bodyguards didn't. They all backed down, though, dogs coming to heel at a look from their boss. Typical goons.

"Forgive our poor manners and the abrupt visit, Miss Xiao Long. My name is..."

The clattering crash of broken cups and a wooden tray hitting the floor made me jump, the tattooed arm that snaked from behind me and shoved me back to land against the staircase only more so.

That didn't matter, though...

Not with Dad standing in the threshold wearing that silly pink apron of his, shoulders heaving, staring down a host of weapons that had sprang up in response and ignoring them all, focused intently only on the man he'd just interrupted.

"...Tai." Our intruder raised a hand, his men hesitating only a fraction of a second before slowly lowering their weapons. "It's... It's good to see you. You look well."

" _...Lucas._ " Taiyang Xiao Long growled back with more vehemence than I'd ever heard my father use before. Not when we were arguing, when he was making a point, or when Ruby or I had screwed up. This wasn't angry... This was _furious._ "Can't say the same for you. The so-called Lord of Bastion himself on my porch. What an ' _honor,_ '" the blonde Huntsman spoke up, voice laden with bitter sarcasm.

 _'What the heck's going on?...'_ I straightened up, looking between Dad and the newcomer, unsure as to what to... ' _Wait a sec... Did he just say ' **Lucas!?** ''_

As in Lucas _Violette!?_ Leader of the distant Frontier, and the forces invading the Kingdoms of Remnant as we spoke!? Leader of the infamous Red Hand, the terrorist group and birthplace of the Trappers!? _Joel's uncle,_ and oldest remaining relative!?... _THAT_ Lucas Violette!?

 _'Shorter than I thought he'd be...'_

"Regardless, may I come in?" Lucas, the man impossibly placed at our door, cocked his head towards the forest beyond, howls rising from the tree tops. "I know such a meeting is sudden, but I'd prefer to talk in a more comfortable position than this, let alone a less awkward one. My men can make sure we won't be disturbed." His face softened, becoming something almost friendly. "I _am_ glad to see you again, Tai, even if you can't believe me. I assure you, my compatriots and I mean you and your daughter no harm. I swear it on my honor." He raised a placating hand to his chest that I again recognized from Joel, even that small action nearly setting Dad off. "All I want is the chance to talk. Of my mentor and his final days, if you'll allow it.."

"'...On my honor,' he says. As if he had any to start with..." Dad shook his head in utter disbelief, laughing to himself, though it was a bitter thing, devoid of mirth. "Lucas, you... Wow, you've got _some_ nerve demanding something like that, _especially_ after what you've done. What you _did._ "

"Not demanding. Merely imposing." I got the sense he 'imposed' quite often, and he wasn't going to take a refusal as an answer. "You... had _tea,_ yes? I think we should all sit down for a spell, and have a moment. I'd also love to get to know Miss Xiao Long. I've heard so much about you from my nephew, but that's no proper meeting."

Dad barked out a laugh, slamming his fists together even as his eyes said I should run. " _Ha!_ Sorry to disappoint you, Lucas." His Aura flashed gold, the temperature rising steadily throughout the space. "But the only chance that's gonna even _remotely_ happen is over my cold, dead...!"

* * *

 ** _-Lucas Violette-_**

"...body else want some?" the blonde Huntsman asked with a reasonable effort at politeness, placing a steaming cup before his daughter and myself, glaring about at the others assembled about the cozy living room. "Anybody? C'mon, might as well, seeing as you've already gone and let yourselves in. Still miffed about that, by the way," he added as an aside through gritted teeth, looking pointedly my way.

I raised a finger, accepting a steaming cup with a respectful nod of thanks despite the worrying expressions my retinue shared as I drank without fear or thought to check for foul play.

A pointless move, and impolite to our already unwilling host. Taiyang Xiao Long wasn't one to resort to poison.

He was a far more direct soul. If he'd sought to stand his ground and fight, we'd know it immediately. The only reason he hadn't done so already was the thought of his daughter, and even then I could see his eyes darting around those warriors closest to him, calculating his odds, making a tally. And choosing not to act.

 _'A fine warrior and Huntsman... And an even finer father.'_

"And what about you all?"

For the most part, all his offer received was the gruff silence I'd come to expect of my protectors, stoic and proper. All of them stood at perfect attention, though one of them - the youngest, by my reckoning - did almost raise his hand. The others corrected him with a glance, his blush of apology swiftly swallowed by focused wariness once more.

"Meh, suit yourselves." Tai shrugged, placing the tray aside and falling into his seat with a grimace of barely restrained irritation, glaring at me openly.

 _'Always so dramatic, both him and Qrow. Glad to see that hasn't changed.'_

I'd disliked that about them, I recalled idly, remembering the man I had been before, unable to help the nostalgic air that came over me in the face of our reunion.

My thoughts drifted back to the scant few months they'd spent within the Frontier, Ozpin's floundering attempt to build bridges in the wake of rediscovery; the first of many similar ventures.

To be perfectly honest with myself, 'disliked' had been too weak a word, in hindsight. My younger self insisted that their constant antics, arguments, and attempts at humor constituted behavior ill-becoming of their privileged station as Huntsmen, lacking in dignity and poise.

They were supposed to be defenders of the people, not... weak-minded _fools._

The young Lucas Violette of old had been disgusted with them, or at the very least put off. I'd lodged complaints, turned up my nose at their antics, conspired with others to...

 _'By the blood of Rowan, I was such a child then. We **all** were."_

Now... Now, all I could think to do was laugh at how things had transpired. A notion that never would've even crossed my mind before my experience in the deepest darkest depths of the Frontier, the wriggling tendrils of those _things_ probing at my soul, flaying my resolve...

 _'Everything is so much simpler now. Concerns forgotten, burdens lifted...'_

"Your eye." I snapped from my musings, my fellow Huntsman smirking with the same arrogance I remembered. "Raven's work, right?"

Funny, I'd grown used to narrowed disapproval being all I needed to cow a disrespectful cur, though, of course, it seemed this man was still as infuriatingly cocky as ever, or putting on a good show of it for his child. She'd perked up at her mother's name, suddenly intent on my injury.

"Used her Semblance, then? Surprised she even bothered to keep your bond maintained for this long."

"Indeed." A heartbeat passed when my jaw clenched, bitter memories of the... 'incident' flashing before me in an instant. My triumph stolen, her... powers revealed in truth, being left to die in that Hell... "Certainly a surprise."

"Heh, I'll bet. Nice to hear she still knows how to make an entrance. Certainly took you down a peg from the way Joel told it."

My guards eyed the smug Huntsman, tensing, as if waiting for my signal to punish the man for his insolence, but I just stared straight ahead, chuckling low under my breath.

"She certainly did at that." I could admit my loss, humbling myself from the fact that I'd been beaten, in a way, by some up-jumped coward of a bandit leader. That didn't mean I enjoyed having it thrown back in my face. "Though, I have to wonder, what hurt worse when that woman cut it out? My eye, or your heart?"

The sound that passed from his throat could have been a laugh... or a snarl.

Judging from his face, I was leaning more towards the latter, and my protectors saw it as quite the same. Hands leapt for weapon hilts, Auras tensing at the anticipation of fighting. But against expectations, including my own, the man settled down, grinning, though with his fist quivering all the while. His daughter looked ready to lash out for him, though was kept in check by her own good sense, following her father's lead.

"Fair point. Raven's a sore subject for both of us, I take it?"

"It seems so. You asked about my eye?"

"Never mind."

"Hmm, I thought as much."

The silence afterwards proved stony and carrying... and went on far longer than was proper. Longer than either of us expected, at any rate. Neither of us really knew what to say, but the first to speak would lose somehow, or so it seemed.

Thankfully, our junior wasn't quite so patient.

" _Sooooo..._ "

The daughter bit her lip after minutes of unspoken judging, shuffling uncomfortably on the couch, eyes bouncing between myself and her father as we all sat together. Not that I judged her harshly for her nerves. They were perfectly justified, of course, thanks to a half-dozen bodyguards stationed throughout the room and beyond the abode in the yard.

"This is... definitely a thing."

"Yes, quite." I found myself agreeing with the young woman as she sipped at the fresh pot of tea Taiyang had brought her, feeling a tug at the corner of my mouth at her obvious attempts to pass off her staring as mere glances. They'd been just a hair too long, though, and had occurred far too often to be merely accidental, and not just that.

She'd been put off by me. Perhaps a family resemblance to my nephew? Perhaps I should be flattered.

"That it certainly is."

"I know. It's why I just said it."

She looked on boldly now, no longer hiding. Youthful bluster at its finest. The girl reminded me so much of Robyn in that moment, it almost ached to see her back down under Tai's whispered warning and my guards' obvious displeasure. Yang couldn't have cared less, back straight, fingers digging into the cup she bore as the temperature rose a scant few degrees.

 _'I see I was right to expect this sort of... atmosphere.'_

Most sane individuals would be gazing on me with anger, wariness, and hostility. Meanwhile, Yang Xiao Long seemed only to radiate a slight discomfort, a desire for action expressed on reflex... and, in surprising contrast, a tremor of what might've been fear beneath the thin veneer of confidence.

 _'Surprising.'_ I raised a concerned brow, thinking back to the reports I'd read concerning the young woman.

Those had described her as 'fiery,' 'straightforward,' and 'confident.' A true Huntress, passionate, and made all the stronger for it. She was so obviously her parent's child.

 _'Not afraid of me, no.'_

Which was interesting enough in itself, once I'd determined the emotion for what it was, years of experience as a warrior and as a father myself providing insight. This wasn't caused by my presence, for once, seeming to stem from a more deep-seated notion, linked to an inferiority from what I assumed stemmed from her injury.

 _'Less fear, perhaps. A feeling of helplessness; incapability. To see such a thing in one so young...'_

Regrettable, really. I was well familiar with the signs, having seen more than my fair share of similar cases in my time. Facing the creatures of Grimm, and the White Fang later on, had its fair share of dangers from which few escaped unscathed.

My hand twitched, almost giving into the desire to reach out and stroke the strip of leather that concealed my own injury, my own loss. An old anger I'd thought buried in the last few months simmered to the surface from beneath the ashes.

 _"He wanted you to stop what you're doing before any more heads rolled. The fact that he drew me into this is proof enough about he serious he was about it... I get why you're fighting - I really do - but..."_ a bitter voice welled from the past, Her voice. Words that had preceded suffering, and set my fingers twitching, the urge to draw silver almost screaming between my ears. To be left to die so miserably, not even defeated, but ignored...

The fact that the girl resembled Raven so strongly... The irony that this would be the woman Joel had chosen to pursue...

 _...Shifting shadows, old faces, faces I cared about, faces I loved mocking me. Silver flashing in shimmering blurs as the creatures tormenting me fell one after the other, cut down, until the last... Father..._

 ** _'The mind is a fortress! A fortress of iron! From that iron comes Strength!_** _ **From Strength comes Will! From that Will comes Honor!'**_ _On and on it built, louder and louder, screams roaring down on me. Screams of death, their screams, their pain, meeting my own!_ _ **'**_ ** _The mind is a fortress! A fortress of iron! From that iron comes Strength! From Strength comes Will! From Will comes Honor! The mind is a fortress! A fortress of iron! From that iron comes Strength! From Strength comes Will! From Will comes...!'_**

"My Lord Cahalrym?" Umbra Dornez, leader of my personal protectors, murmured with a gauntlet clad hand outstretched. My brow twitched as reality reasserted itself, and I realized my hand was now pressed firmly to my covered eye, a dull burn aching beneath its folds.

It appeared he'd been caught between the choice of whether to reach out and attempt to steady me, or to do nothing and save me from what he and no doubt the others saw as a lapse; a weakness.

I appreciated that...

Dornez, a good lad, an excellent student, and an even better Huntsman.

" _Yna oui xieda ymnekrd?_ " he continued, swapping seamlessly between common speech and the Old Tongue, our hosts neatly denied the chance to eavesdrop.

"Indeed, Guardian. Just a bitter memory. I'm fine." I stared briefly at the proffered hand, at the weapon it bore, a pang of melancholy icing its way through me as I waved it away. "Just a memory."

 _Daylight Duchess..._ There was a time where once it had been Robyn's, my little bird's, wielded in defense of her home and family from the creatures that would see us all destroyed given a moment's laxity. A weapon abandoned, its master falling without its comforting weight on her arm, left behind, thought unnecessary... I shoved those thoughts aside, discarding them with a sigh of weight leaving my shoulders.

Such things were better ignored. The jungle had taught me that, those _things_ I'd butchered proving fine educators in such regards.

My jaw tightened, covering the pause well enough only by sharp discipline and pride.

"Why're you _really_ here, Lucas?"

Tai's question was delightfully blunt, with none of the obfuscation and sniveling praise I'd come to expect in my new role. A refreshing experience, really, to have a candid conversation with one who hated me.

"I've heard about what you're planning, what you're _doing._ Bastion's a long ways off, and I can't imagine it's that easy to make time these days, what with you guys invading the known world, and all. Guessing we're supposed to feel honored?"

"Dad..." He shushed his daughter with a curt glance. He was taking this seriously. About time.

"Is it really so hard to believe the explanation I've given you? I thought you were familiar with our culture, how we in the Frontier viewed such things?" I implored, leaning forward in my seat. "Kenneth Ambrose was a troubled soul - a controversial one - but he was still one of Bastion's greatest heroes. He was my mentor... And I loved him as if he were my own father."

"And yet, from what I've heard, you as good as killed him yourself."

" _You_ _disrespectful...!_ " Dornez and many of the guards stiffened, hands springing to the handles and hilts of weapons as the air suddenly became charged with the battle Auras of several skilled warriors. I put a stop to it, of course. A single tap of my index finger on the coffee table, and the atmosphere about the room returned to normal, if with a slight bit more tension besides. "My Lord, such lies...!" The Aegis-trained Huntsman blanched under my scrutiny, nodding his acquiescence meekly.

So much easier to manage than the children; the Trappers.

Xiao Long wasn't finished, waiting until he was quite certain the other man wouldn't interrupt again before continuing. "Guessing everyone here's fresh recruits from Aegis? That explains it... You said you wanted to know how the Old Man spent his last days, right?"

"If you'd please," I urged on, as if the unfortunate interruption hadn't occurred, my eye intent on my former... 'acquaintance.' 'Friend' was far too strong a word. His daughter stiffened visibly, fingers digging into her knee.

"...He was in pain... _every... single..._ _DAY!_ " he hissed, venom and disgust evident in his words. "That man had to live in fear every second he breathed, because he knew that at a moment's notice, he could drop dead, and it'd all be done. But he put up with it, because he knew had things to do before he left your nephews for good. And he did them. Once that was said and done... he finally...!" He bit back a curse, easing back his anger to something focused, manageable. I could respect that control. "...And here you are, reaping the benefits like some skulking Nevermore."

I raised my hand to ease the bristling men surrounding us, before lowering it to address Taiyang.

"I won't deny that Kenneth's removal was necessary, and, of course, integral to my ascendance to my current station. It's very much true, I _have_ benefited. However, even you must understand, surely, that his passing brings me no joy. He took my sister and I in when we lost our father to the wilds. He raised me as one of his own, alongside his child. His pains were more often than not my own, as well... especially when it came to our family. We _were_ family, and my heart grieves, to this second, over the fact that he...!"

"Oh, give that a rest, already!" Xiao Long cut off, pointing a damning finger right at me. "Look, I don't know who you're trying to convince with this spiel. but lemme tell you, I know what I saw, and what I was told. And from all of that, I know two things that are, without a shadow of a doubt, true. Want me to list them off for you?"

I clenched a fist slowly in annoyance, but still nodded at him. "I'm sure you're going to tell me regardless."

He raised his index finger. "One. You never honored him in life, at least towards the end. How do I know that? Like I said, the man was in pain every day when he was here. Why? Because you poisoned him!"

To my growing ire, Dornez spoke up again. "You and your blatant...!"

This time, however, Tai didn't take the interruption too lightly. "Look, son, was I talking to you at all!? _No._ So do me a favor, and keep your trap _shut!_ "

At last, we found common ground.

" _Umbra!_ While your loyalty is greatly appreciated, you will _not_ speak out of turn again." I didn't turn to look at him for that warning, but did so after, making sure my word - his Cahalrym's word - would not be ignored. "Am I understood?"

Umbra fidgeted in his position, shaking with annoyance, shame, and anger, before relenting and bowing his head, doing his best to keep it there.

"...You were saying?"

"...Right," he nodded, before turning his glare back to me. "You poisoned him. Yeah, sure, I can't prove it now, and you'll no doubt deny it, but I know he was. And that Semblance of his? The thing that brought him back from the brink? It went into _overdrive_ trying to keep him alive, pushing back the toxins that were still in his system! He felt _every_ second of it!" His fist clenched audibly. "You gave that man a slow, terrible, and painful death, when he deserved far better than that, if not far easier... The man took you in, raised you, trained you, and that's all the thanks he gets from you."

He then raised his middle finger to join the other, ignoring my slowly withering glare. "Which brings me to Two. The man's already dead, and you failed to honor him even then."

"Oh, and how so?"

"By holding that sham of a funeral for him!" he cried. "Oh, what, didn't think your nephew was gonna fill us in about all that? How you and your people all but glitz and glamoured Kenneth's death!? You'd think that, as his best pupil, you'd have been able to tell them _exactly_ how Ambrose would have wanted his memorial to be!"

"I had no say in how that was arranged. I wasn't involved in the planning for the event," I said matter-of-factly. "Besides, Kenneth was admired as a legend to all of the peoples of the Frontier. He deserved to be treated as such. Distasteful as it was, even he knew the value of ceremony."

"And the fact that you were gonna get a fancy little platform to make your big speech _totally_ didn't have anything to do with it either, right?" He scoffed as he shook his head with disgust. "I swear, the more crap that comes out of your mouth, the more I'm getting the urge to throw up. You make me sick."

"...I regret that you feel this way." My frown dipped even further at his smug expression, as if he'd won, like those rare instances when he won our little spars. "Since you seem to be so upset with how we handled his death, I'm assuming you think you and yours did better?"

"Not me, but I do think Joel handled things better than you ever could," he retorted. "In fact, he gave him an authentic Bastion funeral pyre. The one that's done for the Huntsmen that perish outside of the Wall. Simple and traditional. _Proper._ "

I blinked in slight surprise at that. "He performed a Sending, then?... I see. Good... He did the right thing."

"Certainly more than you have lately, that's for sure."

I ignored the barb. "But by extension, that would also mean that there's nothing left of him here, then? No body to take back with us?"

Tai shook his head. "Nope. Commissioned a marker for him, though. Right on the spot where the pyre was. It's nearby. Could have your little band here look for it if you wanna pay your respects. I'd show you myself, but, uh... yeah. If I wasn't okay with leaving my daughters alone with boys before, I'm sure as hell not gonna leave Yang alone with your goons now."

" _Dad..._ "

I smiled at the interaction between the two, so painfully familiar to mine and Robyn's so many years before. Thinking over his suggestion, I found myself agreeing, and ordered one of my guards to lead a group around the nearby forest to locate the marker, and to eliminate any Grimm they came into contact with with extreme prejudice.

A bit of housekeeping was the least I could offer the man in return.

"Thank you, Tai. Which reminds me, I know I should have mentioned this before, but I... Well... I went to go see Summer."

At that, the patriarch stiffened considerably, along with his daughter. "...You _what?_ "

I raised a placating hand. "Only to go pay my respects. I didn't get the chance to do so when I'd heard of her passing." I bowed my head to him. "She was a fine woman. I'm sorry to hear that she lost her life executing her duty. More so that... that she couldn't even come home."

Tai said nothing for a moment, pursing his lips in thought, before nodding back. "...I appreciate it. And for what it's worth... I'm sorry to hear about what happened to your family."

" _Dryhg oui..._ Thank you, I'm grateful."

A rare moment of understanding passed between us. He shrugged. "Kinda why this whole thing sucks."

"Indeed... While we're on that topic, I was under the impression you and Summer had a child together?"

And just like that, tension between us returned with a vengeance. "...Yeah, we did."

"And yet, I only see one daughter sitting here," I observed as I gestured to Yang, whose eyes narrowed heatedly at me. "Is she not here? With Beacon closed, I'd assumed..."

"What's it to you?" Tai snapped, his shoulders tensing in dangerous anticipation.

"...So she's _not_ here," I realized, eye widening in amusement. "Interesting."

" _What's it to you!?_ " the girl snapped now, but simmered when my gaze fell on her... but just _slightly._

I looked back to Tai, gesturing to his daughter. He, however, made no such remark or reprimand. "Question still stands."

So, her departure was sudden. She left without their notice. Curious. One had to wonder why... and with _who._

"It was just that: a question. One that finds me surprised."

"Well, sorry to hear that."

I chuckled at his attempts to deflect the topic. "Surely, you must be worried about her. Do you have any idea where she might have gone? Perhaps I could...!?"

"Thanks, but no thanks." His brow twitched, a warning sign if If ever seen one. "Ruby's already got a babysitter, and I'd rather keep her away from this little war of yours you have going." So Qrow was with her, then, or watching her? Good to know. "'Nother thing I think the Old Man wouldn't have approved of. Dragging other families into your battles, especially after you've already dragged yours."

 _'Ah, here we go...'_

"If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer it if you'd spare me from hearing your arguments on why I should cease my crusade. They've grown tiring, and I'm sick of others using family against me."

Tai narrowed his eyes at me with a 'tch.' "Why try? There'd be no point. Kenneth tried to change your mind. Didn't work. Joel - one of the only living relatives you have left - couldn't manage it." He shook his head bitterly. "If they can't make you see reason, nothing I can do will."

I nodded at him. "I'm glad to see that you understand that much. On that note, however, your words just now reminded me that there's another reason for why I'm here."

The blonde Huntsman raised a wary eyebrow. "Huh, _really?_ I'm shocked." Sarcasm, lovely.

"...My nephew. I have reason to believe he is in possession of a certain... object of great value."

"Oh?"

"A relic of our people that was passed down to him by the Old Man. A rather dangerous one, at that, if what I've learned is accurate." I explained. "Something I wish to protect him from, if I can. So tell me, where is Joel now? To where is he currently bound?"

"What for!? So you can just hunt him down and try to kill him, just like all those other times!? And now you want to ' _protect_ ' him!? Don't give me that garbage!" Yang blurted out, getting to her feet, eyes flashing a brilliant crimson, just like Raven's. Her fist shook at her side, the pent up rage she had been holding in throughout my exchange with her father finally seeping through. She was intimidating, to be sure, though far from an actual threat. "Capaneus, throwing him off a cliff in the Badlands, what happened in Bastion...! Yeah, I know about all of that!"

"Yang, careful...!"

" _NO!_ "

She rounded on him, jabbing a finger towards in my unresponsive face. I was focusing more on the woven bracelet she wore rather than her whitening knuckles, glinting blue and metallic silver in the dim light. My thoughts drifted back to a similar bracelet on another woman's arm before I crushed them then and there. It was unimportant now. "I finally get the chance to put a face to this monster, even if he looks like...! No, two Nevermores with one stone. This is just fine."

So, Joel's departure had also been sudden, then. One she accepted, though reluctantly, and not without its pains. Interesting.

The Huntress-in-training lowered her quivering hand, closing her eyes and whispering to herself, barely loud enough to catch a few words here and there. A mantra. "Not too hot, not too cold..." When she opened her eyes, they had returned once again to her father's violet hue.

"So I'm a 'monster,' then? Is that what Joel told you?" She was a brave one, despite her disability. Patrice would've loved her dearly for a daughter. Her lack of caution, however... "Quite the harsh words, seeing as we've only just met."

"Well, what else do you call the nutcase who sends an armed killer after his own family, in the middle of a street full of people!?"

Ah, yes. _That_ little fiasco.

"That was Capaneus' initiative, not mine. I would've preferred it if things had been handled more... discretely. His actions were hasty, unacceptable, and not how the Red Hand... how _we_ handled such things. I regret that you were hurt in the crossfire...!"

"But you don't regret sending an assassin to kill your own nephew!?" she continued on, unwilling to back down. "And you're also apparently just _a-okay_ with stomping all over the peace _real_ Huntsmen and Huntresses have struggled to keep together! Trying to start a war when we should all be trying to work together!"

"'...Working together...' Is that what you call this little dance the Kingdoms are falling into?" She'd raised her voice, but I didn't see the need to follow along. "Retreating behind their borders, cutting themselves off from one another at the first signs of trouble? Leaving scattered settlements to fend for themselves amidst the Grimm in the wake of the attack in Vale? This is 'working together?'"

Her brow twitched at that, her mouth working silently, no doubt thinking back to the fires and the screaming. I knew that look. Anyone that had lived through what I'd seen recorded before the CCT fell would no doubt be haunted by it.

"Your Councils believe our actions constitute a war, considering our presence in their villages an invasion. Surprisingly heedless of the fact many of those communities would no longer be standing if it were not for our timely intervention." I steeped my fingers into the armrest, leaning back. "Have no doubt, Miss Xiao Long, your fragile 'peace' was doomed the moment this Cinder Fall made her little broadcast. Before that, even." Her rosy complexion paled, her attention turning to her absent arm, the one that the world had seen put down a near-defenseless boy, or so it had seemed. "Back when the Kingdoms were content to let radicals like those animals in the White Fang run about, letting groups like the Red Hand spend lives instead of dealing with it themselves, reaping the benefits of our work. Why... I would wager that if they had, your arm would still be intact and whole to this day."

That put her off balance, her temper flaring. "You...! Y-you don't know anything...!"

"On the contrary, I do. More than you do now, at least. The Kingdoms of Remnant were stagnant, cracked along the edges. People with less-than-noble intentions found that out, and took advantage of it, but they weren't the only ones. The Grimm did as well... Make no mistake, Miss Xiao Long, Vale was just the beginning."

I recalled the messenger that had come to before me, delivering that ultimatum. _Her_ ultimatum.

"Those cracks are more evident now, wider than before. How long do you think it will take for the Grimm to find them this time? And they _will..._ Forces far darker - far more terrible than those that were seen in the Fall of Beacon - are coming, have no doubt of that. Ancient powers are rising to the fore..."

Now it was Tai's turn to freeze up. Interesting. Did he perhaps know of what I speaking of, then? Of the Dark Goddess? It seems there was a chance that that fool knew more than he let on. Curious...

"The forces of Mankind must stand together if it is to have any hope of facing them."

"And you think _attacking them_ is the best way to go about it!? What a _great_ idea!"

"If it stands to unite them against something other than themselves, then isn't it exactly that?" She paused, noting the resolute expressions of those around her. "Mankind must endure. Whether it's under the banner of the Red Hand, or the united Councils, remains to be seen. All that matters to me is the assurance that when that darkness comes, a strong and united front will remain to face it, and triumph. Mankind lives on, no matter the cost... No matter who or what needs to be removed, and what needs to be done to do it."

And there it was, the truth of what I struggled to accomplish out in the open. To save this world, and to deny the soulless beasts our extinction, even if it meant removing every weakness, even men, keeping us from that goal.

Tai bit his lip but said nothing, allowing his progeny to speak for him. "You... Y-you're _insane..._ " The golden-haired girl looked around to others, as if expecting sympathy, or at least agreement.

Predictably, she found none.

"You'll lose... If the Kingdoms do band together, you'll lose. You have to understand that."

"Then we'll lose." I allowed the corners of my mouth to tug upwards, but not quite a smile now. Not anymore. "Now, I believe I asked you about my nephew? Anything you have to share - anything at all - would be greatly appreciated." She sat down, shaking her head, and looking at me as if I were something unrecognizable.

Good. It was far better that than being compared in appearance to some disobedient child.

"And if we refuse?" Tai asked the obvious question, of course, and immediately found his answer in the subtle shift in my demeanor. I was loathe to use his daughter against him. It was an unworthy tactic, but by far the most expedient method of getting what I wanted. "Ah, right. Just checking... So much for not meaning me and my daughter harm."

"I can say 'please,' if that would make the request more palatable."

Tai actually did bark out a chuckle at that, and for a moment, it almost seemed like old times. Him hating me, me ignoring him. "Don't try to be funny. It didn't work back then, and it's definitely not working now."

I huffed, tapping a finger to my chest above my heart in a show of acquiescence, eager to extract what information I could, and be gone from this place. I'd already dawdled too long on personal matters as it was. There was work to be done after all, operations to be overseen...

"...How could you?" the girl spoke up again, drawing the eyes of all in the room, the fire gone from her voice. All that remained was curiosity, and a fair measure of disgust. "...How could you do it?"

"How could I do _what,_ Miss Xiao Long?"

"Take advantage of your family... Of Joel... How could you use him the way you did, and put him through all that?" By her voice, it seemed the very idea of such a thing was anathema to her. "When he told me about you, I... I couldn't really believe it."

"If he told you about that, then he must have already told you that everything done to him was by his own..." I started, only to be interrupted. The disrespect of it was almost enough to make me use my Semblance.

"But he _trusted you!_ And you just... just...! How could you do that? I never could understand that. How can you live with yourself? How can you just sit there looking all fancy, spinning this... this _screwed-up_ logic to us, and then still say you actually want to protect him after everything you've done!? _How!?_ You're supposed to be his family!"

She was judging me, taking the moral high ground, as if she'd known what I'd sacrificed. What I've had to do to guarantee Humanity's survival. First against the White Fang, now the Grimm and Her.

It was laughable.

It was _tiring._

Silence dominated the room for several moments, Raven's daughter sitting there, expecting some sort of answer; any answer. How could I quantify that with an answer? How can I justify myself to her? It was impossible, no doubt, to make her understand.

More so that it was pointless... But I could try.

" _Tido_ _... Duty,_ Yang Xiao Long," I said after a deep breath to steady my humors. To silence the conflicting voices screaming at me to be rid of this specter of the woman who'd left me to die, that had allowed me to finally see. "Duty to Mankind, duty to the ideals I've striven to uphold, and duty to Joel, himself, oddly enough."

One word, for which I would see the world burn to uphold, and that had become my only reason for living. Even if it meant cutting away the chaff clinging to me as I went, such connections proving only more unnecessary weight to bear. Even if it meant setting the world on fire, and dragging what strength remained from the ashes. That was what was expected of me now.

So that was what I would do...

"...Duty?... _Duty_ is why you did all of that to him? Why you're trying to kill him!?"

She didn't understand. How could she? Still so young.

"My duty to my family was why I approached Joel to begin with," I explained. "When I came to him, I... I did it because I was trying to help him. He had lost his mother and father, and I had lost my sister and a man I considered a brother... I knew his pain, and I felt that it was my responsibility to see him through it. To give him purpose from that grief, and provide him the means with which to carry out our justice, teaching him to do what was necessary to make sure tragedies like ours never happened again."

"For all the good it did! You turned him into the very thing that took his parents away from him! You made him a terrorist and a killer!"

I narrowed my eye at her. "Do you really hold my nephew to such a low regard?"

"Huh?"

"You believe I forced him, or tricked him into any of this? When I approached the boy, I made him perfectly aware of what following me would entail. He knew what was in store for him, what he might be sacrificing, despite justifying it as a means to protect the Corbell girl."

"Natalie? What does she...?"

"She was an excuse, and a poor one, at that. He may have been young, but the boy was a warrior. He made his choices, and lived by them, just as he does now. I _won't_ hear them discredited as manipulation!"

For the first time since entering the abode, I think I might've actually snapped, the girl's face paling under the weight of my Aura. A pressure I eased slowly.

"...It dishonors him. If nothing else, I respect the boy for never denying that fact, and for walking his own path... But I will say no more than that, for I am tired of trying to justify my beliefs to those who would brush them aside, or refuse to acknowledge the truth in them... Now, _where_ is Joel? I _won't_ ask you again, girl."

She was glaring at me openly, eyes narrowing. All eyes were turned to her now, even mine, wondering just how she would approach my demand. Acquiescing, or denying the Cahalrym before his men.

As it turned out... she did a bit of both, her mouth slowly forming to a grin now. It was a move that was actually starting to irritate me, I think. "Well... joke's on you, then. We don't know where he is. I don't think even _he_ knew where he was going. But the bottom line is he's long gone. You can't get to him now." It was faint, made all the more feeble by the cold sweat beading her brow and the tremor in her hand, but her defiance held. "He's piecing things together, doing what he does best. And when he's done... When he's done, he's coming for you! Count on it! You and the rest of them!" Her grin then dipped into a challenging snarl, so like her mother's. "So I wouldn't worry about looking for him if I were you. He'll find you, eventually! You won't even see it coming."

"Is that so?... So you mean to tell me that one boy, however skilled, with maybe a small team of misfits, wishes to oppose the might and rather vast forces of the Frontier and beyond?... _That's_ what he plans to do?"

"I didn't stutter," she spat out, before tilting her head slightly. "Or do you need me to repeat that? Did Mom also take your ear when she got your eye?"

At such words, even I couldn't help but let out an amused laugh, unnerving both of them. It had been so long since anyone had had the spirit to talk so frankly to me. My advisers carried from the Red Hand were often too nervous, and those of the Frontier were far too respectful...

" _Hahahaha!..._ Ah, I like you, girl." I scanned both father and daughter, toning down my Aura as I saw both of them clenching their fists in response to it, no doubt feeling a bit suffocated at my presence. "You've certainly inherited your father's sense of humor... poor as it may be. But I take it that's all you have to share with me?"

"Yep," she confirmed. "Only reason I told you was 'cause it doesn't matter. You're not gonna stop him."

"Such confidence," I noted. "You truly have faith in him after all, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she quickly replied. "He believes in me... And I believe in him."

"...Indeed," I muttered as I caressed my index finger with my thumb, taking in the fire and certainty behind her claim. "...Well, Yang Xiao Long, if what you say is true, then Joel very much plans to continue opposing me in the near future. If that's the case..." I placed over my thighs, an audible _*pat*_ ringing throughout out the room, "...then I'm very much looking forward to it," I said with an air of finality as I stood up, making the rest of my men stand to attention. "It will be a joy, seeing how he's grown."

Our work was done here. Nothing more could be gleaned from this, and I'd already been away far too long. Thankfully, we had an excellent means of transportation in the form of that curious airship. The months of testing that had gone into resurrecting and streamlining the craft's design had been long and costly in resources and manpower, but the results were well worth it.

Even if a copy could still never quite match up to the original... or in this case, surpass it.

 _'Quite the genius, my nephew...'_ Even among the myriad resources and minds gathered during our campaign against the Faunus, the youngest Ambrose's designs had still proven difficult to crack, a testament to what he would be capable of given time, and the threat he posed. The potential boons to Mankind that he could offer... _'His name will live on, I'm sure of it. Beyond mine, beyond Kenneth's, beyond Joel's...'_

A shame that young Jacob had proven as defiant as his brother. A jewel that had fallen through the cracks of Bastion's culture; a true loss. It warmed my heart that he could still serve the cause, if indirectly, in the form of the few works of wonder he'd left behind.

I gestured to them to leave, and they did so. I followed that with a final glance to the Xiao Long clan. "It was good seeing you again, Tai. If we meet again, I hope it's in just as pleasant circumstances, if not better." I held out a tentative hand, eyebrow raised.

He only snorted at me before taking it, his grip predictably crushing. "If I ever see you again, it'll be too soon."

I could smile at that, expected as it was. No pretense, then. "Quite." I then turned to the girl. "It was an enlightening experience to meet you, Yang. Joel was fortunate to have you supporting him when you did."

She said nothing, merely keeping her fiery stare fixed at me.

I turned to leave, moving to approach the men already past the doorstep, already bowing their heads in deference.

Of course, the girl _had_ to have the last word right before I made it past the threshold. Just like her mother. "Before this is over, you're gonna _pay_ for everything you've done! Because if you know Joel as well as I do, then you'd know that once sets his sight on something, he _won't_ stop until he does it! And he's gonna make you _regret_ messing with him and our friends!"

Chuckling amiably at the remark despite my bodyguards' nerves, I turned my head to regard her. "I'm not afraid of my nephew, Miss Xiao Long."

"Good!" The Huntress stood her ground, even as I made to join my entourage, who now followed nervously in my wake as the door closed slowly behind me. "Because he's not afraid of you, either!"

Only time would tell if her words proved true, but there was one thing I knew for certain after today. The past was irrelevant now.

For the Frontier, the Red Hand, and the future... The future was beckoning me to arms.

* * *

-END

* * *

 **-OC Voice Cast Introduced this Chapter-**

Umbra Dornez - Steven Yeun

* * *

 **-Primer-**

 **Yna oui xieda ymnekrd? -** Are you quite alright?

 **Dryhg oui -** Thank you

 **Tido -** Duty

* * *

 _ **A/N: Hey all, sorry about the long wait. Work has been picking up and Dragon Age Inquisition has reared its head again, distractions...haha. Anyway I'm doing my best to make these chapters longer to compensate, better than the old 5k words per chapter, hope you guys approve.**_

 _ **This chapter took a bit, but it did bring together some characters that have never spoken or even seen each other before. Storywise, Violette knew STRQ a ways back so Tai was fun to write, and Yang got a Trapper attack as an indirect introduction and that was probably the closest she ever got to an introduction.**_

 _ **And we see a few of Lucas and the Frontier's motivations, they don't Cinder or Salem, but they aren't exactly going to sit around and wait for her to catch the Kingdom's divided. Appearance wise, his eye patch is similar in appearance to Sosuke Aizen from Bleach(Anyone else remember that one, before it went a bit crazy), without the little chinstrap it had**_.

 _ **Know it is a slow chapter but I hope it was at least interesting. Next one's pretty much gonna be all fighting to make up for it. I promise.**_

 _ **And finally, the OC Umbra Dornez belongs to ZangetsuOldMan. He's a former student and Huntsman of Bastion and a friend to Lucas' Daughter and Joel's Cousin, Robyn. Now currently serving as Lucas' head of security these days. Hope I did him justice, as we'll likely see him again.**_

 ** _Hoping to post again soon, and already hyped about the upcoming Volume 6 set for later this year, not to mention Gen:Lock and the other stuff Roosterteeth is pushing out. - Mojo_**

* * *

 _ **(Next Chapter: The Red Hand embattled, a prisoner freed.)**_


	12. Chapter 12

_**Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_

* * *

AN EXAMPLE

* * *

 ** _-Iris Brielle-_**

 **(Solitas - Northern Regions)**

 _' **DAMN IT...!'**_

Desperately, I rolled aside back into the cover of half frozen bushes and brambles, ignoring the scratching brittle spikes tearing at my Aura, the snow fogging my visor.

Scrambling into a low crouching sprint, I just ran, scattered return fire from the forces still fighting in the snow-laden valley below driving me from yet another choice perch. And this time after only two shots, too!

The enemy's counter snipers were improving, so much so I might actually have been pretty impressed, if it weren't so goddamn irritating.

 _"-Trapper Brielle, your vitals are spiking at an alarming rate.-"_ Locke, that little bastard of an AI, whispered in that same still emotionless diction of his that always made my skin crawl. _"-Recommend locating a path of egress, or administering sedating agents forth...-"_

 **"I'm aware, Locke!"**

I heard the whistling whine long before I leapt forward, and a good thing I did, at that. The patch of ground I'd been occupying moments before had been blown apart, heat and pressure sending me rolling into a low crouch, dirt and icicles pattering off my armor and catching in my hair.

 **"Now kindly _SHUT UP!_ "**

 _"-Complying.-"_

 _Blooming Whispers'_ familiar, ungainly weight was clutched snugly against my pounding chest, tracer rounds cutting through the air mere inches above my head. Business as usual, doing the best job in the whole wide world...

 _'Damn it, damn it, damn it! What are those idiots playing at down there!?'_

Seeking cover, I ducked forward and placed my hand along the lip of the ridge, punching through the ice and snow to reach the ground beneath before pulsing my Aura, and drawing upon my Semblance.

The effect was satisfying as it was immediate, purplish cracks of energy spreading outward, giving me only moments to duck aside to brace myself before the point I'd made contact with, and a few meters to either side, detonated in a wall of sudden heat, steam, and ash-tinged smoke.

Taking the moment when I saw it, I leapt into the conflagration and sudden rush of heat, sliding down a steep, sloping depression cut into the cliff side using the miniature avalanche as cover. Not perfect by any means, but it did afford me a momentary glimpse of the battlefield through the spray of snow and rubble.

And from what I saw, it didn't look good. Not one bit.

Two sides facing off, one against the another, separated by only a few hundred yards of wide-open, snowy no man's land. The prepared, well-equipped, and certainly well-entrenched Atlas Troopers, their defenses arrayed roughly half a mile with razor wire and uniform emplacements, were all cast beneath the wide shadow of a block-like slab of metal and concrete.

A mere indicator that failed to convey the extent to which the complex extended underground, but even so was ringed by tall watchtowers and flashing sentry lights that played hell across my scope when combined with the wind-borne flurries pervading the valley.

Men and women in brightly-colored uniforms indicative of rank and role ran and completed their tasks with such perfectly drilled cohesion and rescission that they could've given their more numerous robotic allies a run for their money, and those tin can bastards were doing well enough on their own besides.

Quite easy to see why theirs was widely considered the greatest armed force on the face of Remnant.

In comparison, across the field from this example of military excellence, cowering behind dense snowbanks and ice crags, crouched a far more disparate force. Men and women dressed in dark fatigues, and top of the line, if scrounged together, body armor of various makes and styles, all currently employed trying to beat back the freezing cold, bearing weapons likely designed by, and later stolen from, Atlas itself.

Ironic, really, though they shouldn't have made their fancy swords and high-powered Dust rifles so easy to snatch, now should they? Regardless, amid the variation, the only uniform thing about the lot of them were the crimson highlights to their gear's color scheme, and the iconic hand print each wore stitched somewhere to declare their allegiance to the world.

Militia soldiers scraped from the ranks of the Red Hand. Combatants drawn from all walks of life, once the vengeful enemies of the White Fang alone, now declared against the perceived weakness of the Kingdoms. People like me... but weaker. Wearing the mark, but not really _wearing_ it.

Fighting alongside them were warriors, not "soldiers." The word did not exactly seem fit to describe such fighters, those of Rowan's Frontier. That faraway fringe of Humanity made up of savages, pirates, and detritus that had somehow endured isolation beyond the Kingdoms of Remnant, coming out all the stronger for it.

 _'Crazier, too, depending on how you look at it... Especially this lot.'_

Bastion, Mooring, Safehold...

Like the settlements themselves, the forces attracted from the homeland of our Commander - our "Cahalrym," as we were to call him now - tended to vary in ideology, equipment, and methods of combat depending on their home.

 _'This Safehold bunch in particular...'_

Armored in metal plates, thick furs and painted leathers draped across towering physiques, strung throughout and practically jangling with small totems carved from teeth and scraps of wood that similarly adorned hair and weapons as well. Ritually scarred faces set and shockingly calm despite the bullets flying about, every bit the savages the Kingdom's perceived and more. Callused hands gripped at the shafts of ornate spears, the hilts of silver swords, or, more commonly in this case, the grips of curious quad-limbed bows of a strange design and even stranger material.

 _Those_ I noted with some interest, having seen what they could do first hand. Evidence littering the field of arrows fired that had drilled through robotic chassis and armor with brutal ease.

And what's more, the Hunds - massive canine beasts, some the size of horses - loped and prowled low to the ground amid their numbers. Sidling up under the reassuring hands of their owners... or friends. I wasn't quite sure of the distinction Safeholders held to.

One just didn't ask. More than a few Hand troops had leaned that lesson the hard way in the beginning.

An impressive force in its own right, to be sure. One that had broken through the outer defenses surrounding this complex with contemptible ease.

Atlas soldiers were skilled and disciplined, but they couldn't stand against the sheer number of Red Hand regulars filling the air with fire, covering the approach of Aura-wielding warriors. Many laughed and howled like their dogs, some even riding atop the largest of them like mounts, closing the distance in moments, and overwhelming the startled tin men's feeble attempt to form ranks in the first few minutes of the "battle", turning the snow crimson.

That had been quite a sight indeed, and a surprise.

I'd expected the boastful barbarians to go down in the first volley, folding under the automatic rifles their enemies utilized. Bastion's soldiers, Rangers most of us called them, had at least made use of archaic-looking single-shot rifles. Heavy things designed to blow Grimm's heads off in single shots, and club them down if they managed to get too close. Dependent on avoiding direct fights, from everything I'd heard.

Safehold, on the other hand, went with a similar, if far more direct approach to fighting the forces of the Kingdoms.

I'd rarely seen anyone, aside from fellow Trappers and Huntsmen, move as they did. Seemingly erratic from up close, but at a distance, I could just make out the formations they'd used in their charge. Some clutched spears, bows, or rare silver shields larger than I was, held by the burliest and most solid of a group of already physically-imposing specimens.

Rare things, meant only to block the spikes and ranged implements of monsters, from which Dust rounds pinged harmless, deflected across the bulwark's gleaming surfaces.

Every man, woman, and Hund acted in concert to support one another in distracting and guarding the approach, bounding through the air, or loping across the ground with Aura-fueled strength and grace, firing wicked metal projectiles that were more like miniature javelins than arrows. Things designed to rip and tear the thickened muscle, and pierce the bone plates of massive Grimm.

Suffice it to say, the factory-produced Atlesian gear and mechs hadn't stood a chance, and fared far worse.

Some didn't make it, of course. Too slow to react, those unshielded falling to Dust-tipped rounds, though it took far more to put one down than I'd thought. And each loss only galvanized them further. More than enough of them completed the crossing to make all the difference.

And when they finally did reach the haggard lines, well... I learned that the savagery wasn't just in their appearance. Silver-plated weapons flashed, stabbed, and crushed, many of those fighting easily the equal in melee of some Combat School students, I expected.

The plan had sounded simple in the briefing, almost ridiculously so. A lightning raid against some out-of-the-way Atlesian prison outpost.

Standard fair. I'd conducted several such missions since earning the mark on my mask, taking it to the Faunus along with Eth... _with my fellow loyal Trappers_.

Heck, it was practically our trademark by this point. Strike hard, strike fast, leave no one with any doubt as to who had done the deed. If we'd left anyone still kicking in our wake at all.

The concept had proven quite effective in the months since our little war was declared. Such that the Red Hand's best troops had even earned something of a nickname amongst those of the Frontier, at least I think it was a nickname: " _Vmycr._ "

No idea what on Remnant that could've meant. Could have been some kind of compliment, or maybe even an insult, for all I knew. It was difficult to tell with that curious growling dialect of theirs, though given the way that lot eyed me most of the time, I was leaning towards the latter.

Of course, it didn't matter. Insults only stung if one cared enough to listen. The savages respected us, and the Red Hand's grunts fought better knowing we were watching. It was all going well.

Then the Paladin had shown up guns blazing. From there, things just went straight to hell...

 _'Not equipped to deal with that monster...'_ I stared down at my rifle, suddenly feeling woefully outclassed against that thing.

A metal behemoth that had marched from the interior of the prison and opened up with an arsenal that had torn the vanguard to ribbons in minutes. All it had taken to break the will to advance was _seconds._ Rockets had flown, arm-mounted machine guns had opened up in salvos, and steel claws had battered both Hund and man aside.

And now it stood sentinel, opening up on even the slightest trace of movement while their foot sloggers pounded their enemy's position for all they were worth. And they were worth a lot. Atlas' wealth had seen to that.

Our second attempt to take it down and get us moving again had proven... unsuccessful, though not for lack of trying. Safeholder spears, arrows, great carving rents torn by teeth, claw, and silver-edged weapon dotted its metal chassis. They dug in deep, but obviously not enough to do the job, or get me a clean shot at the pilot within.

We needed a Huntsman or Huntress out there, and all they had was me.

 _'What would Etho...!?'_ I silenced that plea in a heartbeat, kneecapping it in the back of my mind and letting it rot. _'I don't need him! I **never** have! Not back then, and certainly not now!...'_

That defeatist attitude would get me nowhere. I was better than some preening Huntress!

 **"Captain!"**

I hailed the little man that had command of this little escapade, the Red Hand's half of it at least, over the short wave embedded in my mask's grille. Already feeling a rising swell of annoyance stoking at the fires already present, not that that was difficult. He wouldn't hear the usual distortion, but hopefully my tone would make my displeasure rather clear nonetheless.

 **"What's the holdup!? You're letting yourselves get pinned down! _Move!_ "**

 _"Ma'am, we can't advance with something like that in the way!"_ a weaselly voice crackled over the returns, laden with irritation, fear, and stress all in one. Impressive, really. Most just clammed up whenever one of my kind talked to them. Screams echoed over the comms as a rocket whizzed past, detonating and throwing up a giant plume of snow that buried half a squad standing nearby. _"Most of who I've got left can barely hold their Aura up against a cold breeze, let alone a firefight like this!"_

Okay, maybe not so impressive. More irritating.

 **"We've got rockets of our own, right!? Send your best around, have them try to flank the big tin can and get off a shot! While that thing walks, we can't move forward!"**

 _"-I corroborate Trapper Brielle's assessment. Elimination of Target: PALADIN-290 Heavy Assault Platform is now listed Priority: Highest.-"_ Locke added with perhaps the only helpful bit of info he'd had all day. Not that it mattered. _"-Surrender is NOT ACCEPTABLE at this current time,-"_ It added, a note of threat indistinguishable from its usual speech patterns, but it was in the spirit of the thing that mattered here.

 _"Easy for your kind to say. My 'best' are littered somewhere over there in chunks, most of who's left are little more than recruits!"_ As if that was an excuse, more than half likely had years on me as it was. _"I recommend we fall back and save what we can. Leave the Safeholders to draw their fire...!"_

 _"While you milksops... ee from... field, tails betw... your legs? I think not!"_ The gravely baritone of the warrior heading the Safeholder's sounded back, at least the newest one to lead them after his predecessor fell to the Paladin. _"Are the Cahalrym's new dogs all so skittish?"_

His voice was muffled by static and cutting out every few seconds, the man seemingly unfamiliar with how the device worked.

Not too uncommon or surprising among their number, if irritating at times whenever one was expected to handle a Scroll, or the ones that could barely speak any other tongue apart from their guttural Frontier babble.

" _Even your Machine Ghost is more courageous._ _The prey lies ahead, in sight! It's every breath a dishonor on us all!"_

 _"It doesn't breathe, you fool! Its a machine! One that's ripping us apart as we speak! We need to get out of here!"_

 _"..._ _have strategy. The giant_ _bleeds sparks like their metal men. It can be wounded... **killed.** Surround... as with any beast, and we can bring th... ard down. I assure you. The warriors of Safehold will not run! _**_Taydr un kmuno! Death or glory!_** _"_

His counterpart barked back over the line in a vehement snarl as ferocious as one might expect from the furry overgrown beasts he and the other Safehold warriors fought alongside. He was serious, he was willing to charge into the worst of that hellstorm, leading his people into the grinder.

It was a good boast, confident as one might expect from a culture of warriors, but with the sight of quite a few fur clad bodies, human and Hund, staining the snow from previous attempts to close the distance I couldn't help but hear the hollow echo in the words.

 _"And what... you, Vmycr? D... you intend to flee as well, alongside this coward? Would... shame your Order in this way? Shame the Cahalrym!?"_

Goading the Trapper, now wasn't that a novel idea? He was just lucky I was one of the more generous of my "Order," and that the "Cahalrym" had bigger matters to concern himself with.

 _'Whatever they are.'_ I didn't know, and I certainly wasn't going to ask.

 **"We can't retreat,"** I said firmly, speaking over the nasally denials of my subordinate. **"The storm is disrupting what communications capacity they still have, meaning they can't call for help. but it won't last. If we don't take the facility now, we won't take it _at_ _all._ "** And we _had_ to take it. Those orders were _explicit._ **"My bullets can't pierce that armor, but I can cover the approach. Better yet, attack the cockpit and I might..."**

 _"So you remain safe, leaving your... etters to risk themselves, eh? ...om what I've seen y... ide better than you fight,_ _Meddma Cryta,"_ the Barbarian growled sourly, the way he said the name making it clear he meant it as no compliment. " _I witnessed your kind bend steel and charge lines with glee! Where are they!? Why do we bear this_ _lnyjah's command?"_

Okay, if he called me one more thing I couldn't pronounce, I swore I was gonna..!

 _"-WARNING, additional vital signs detected.-"_

Huh? The alert chimed in my display, chilling revelation coming mere breaths later.

 _"Because it is what is **expected** of you, Son of Safehold."_

Every muscle in my body tensed as a flicker of motion appeared in the heart of the storm behind our lines, directly behind our forces.

A group of heavily-armed and armored Red Hand sporting gear that put the forces already present to shame jogged into cover, recruits and Safehold warriors alike moving to give them a wide berth, and I swore I could hear Hund's growling at the edges of my senses, even from this distance.

That was nothing. _They_ were nothing compared to the tall, well-built figure that marched after them through amid the weapon's fire, calm as one could be. Clad head to toe in a suit similar to my own, all dark angular ceramics and a darkened silvery weave, light and excessively durable. Peeking over his back were what I knew to be the flowing hilts of two compressed, single-edged sabers glinting silver, given to him by the Commander Violette himself. New weapons for a new war.

It was a look meant to inspire terror and awe in all who saw, and he was garnering quite a lot of both, complete with a featureless helmet emblazoned with the same painted hand print my own bore, concealing eyes blind to the world, but who could see so much more.

 _"This is Virgil Jett..."_

As if there could be any doubt to exactly who was speaking, that rasping whisper unmistakable to any that wore the bloodied hand print. The man responsible for leading our new cause from the front.

 _"...what is the meaning of this delay, Trapper Brielle? Locke?"_

 _"-Minor Tactical miscalculation, Trapper Jett.-"_ A minor miscalculation that had seen quite a few men killed, with more likely to join them. _"-Military opposition protecting the Mission Objective present a greater threat than initially anticipated.-"_

 _"Explain."_

Shivers ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold, watching the man interact with the pair of leaders present. The Red Hand's lead was deferential, and all but groveling. The Savage Alpha was wary, if respectful.

 **"It's the Paladin, Virgil. Our forces are faltering, or whatever that savage oaf says. We can't take the place with that thing guarding the way. I can't..."** I spoke calmly, expressing an emotionless cold facade I certainly didn't feel, the admission of failure stinging worst of all. But I couldn't let it stand. I was better than that. I was a Trapper! **"No... Never mind, all I need is one good shot, and I swear, I can take it d...!"**

 _"I'm certain you could at that, Iris. Have no doubt about that."_ Virgil replied over my pleas firmly, a dismissal if I'd ever heard one. Though not unkind, and somehow it felt all the worse for it. _"But for now, I merely require you **watch.** Record what happens here today. And make sure **no Atlesian** escapes what comes."_

 **"You... You don't need me to cover you?"** I watched through my scope, the Second Generation Trapper's head twitching in my direction, the feeling of being watched from every angle immediately apparent.

 _"No... No, I do not believe that will be necessary."_

 **"Virgil?"** I spoke in a panicked whisper of confusion and shock as he leaped from the cover and into the open despite obvious protests from his subordinates, the Trapper stepping purposefully through the rushing snow towards the Atlas battle lines, each step falling light in the snow, **"Virgil, just what are you planning on... Oh, Dust!"** The Paladin was turning its attention on him, the soldiers from what I could see confused, but that wouldn't last long. " **What are you doing!?"**

 _"Isn't it obvious, Iris?"_

The blind man's voice actually sounded amused. More so than I think I'd ever heard it before.

As a matter a fact, he pulled one of his sabers deftly from its sheath, sweeping the razor sharp edge downward with minimal flair to loosen his wrist, allowing it to slide free to its full length in with what I could only imagine was a dull hiss of pressure that almost seemed to repulse the rushing blizzard of sleet away from the man, for but a moment.

The radiance of the weapon gleamed irregularly in the mottled sunlight and the ever-present blizzard, a palpable shift in atmosphere surrounding him.

A shimmering beacon amid the dreary backdrop of frost, carried by what most would describe as a monster, and who I saw as a hero... if a terrifying one at that.

 _"Inspiring the rank and file,"_ he punctuated the words with a curt flourish, rolling his arm, loosening muscles, _"Do pay attention, now. This should make for quite the good lesson."_

 _''Lesson?' What...? What the hell is he thinking!?'_

It was insane. That was the only word I could think of to accurately detail what I was seeing through my quaking scope. But it _was_ happening, right before my eyes, and it made my palms itch to witness it. I tried to raise him again, make him explain, if only to understand it myself, receiving only static in return.

He'd cut me off!

 _"-This is tactically irregular in the extreme,-"_ Locke voiced, actually managing to convey a sense of panicked confusion for once, a feeling I couldn't really help but emulate. _"-He has disconnected communications. Refusing connection. I can no longer interface with the counterpart seconding his interface. Remote Vital signatures read nominal. No signs of chemical imbalance detected...-"_

 **"Huh, could've fooled me."** I grimaced, biting my lip as the AI ran its simulations in rapid fire succession, most involving my superior painting the snow only seconds from now. **"Won't be long now."**

His strange actions giving the Atlesians a moment's pause, perhaps believing this little show was some sort of surrender on our part. Something deep down and instinctive told me that calm wasn't going to last.

The storm was coming, and Virgil Jett, undisputed ace of the Second Generation, and blind protege of Lucas Violette himself, was walking right into its path.

Marching across the open fields, step by eerily graceful step, his helmeted head twitching imperceptibly in various directions every so often, as if searching for something... But what?

A sharp crack from the Atlas lines signaled the first shot as a Dust-tipped round sent up a bloom of icy shards at his feet, halting the Trapper in his tracks before he could step any closer. It didn't seem to matter, his "gaze" was now fixed solidly in one direction. Following his focus brought me to a small, red-tinged snow bank, where a body in Red Hand livery lay, the remains of one of the Vanguard cut down in the first volley.

Something was shouted down below, words exchanged between both sides, lost to me in the screaming gale. Something about surrendering, and a distorted laugh that carried on the wind, and put a cold sweat across my brow.

And then, that's when I saw Virgil move... or tried to follow it, at least.

One moment he was standing there, saber held lazily at his side, and the next he was charging across the field in great bounding strides through a hail of gunfire hastily ordered by shouting commanders.

The Trapper cared not, twisting and weaving through the air like a shadow, shifting direction on a dime, sword becoming a streaking, silvery blur that saw Dust rounds turned aside or cut apart. Sparks and shrapnel flashed to brilliant life before sizzling against cold plate without a trace.

Within mere heartbeats, he was suddenly ducking down into a running slide, my mind briefly wondering if he'd in fact tripped, and half expecting to see the man torn to shreds, only to see him rise again just as quickly, a dark blur hauling a similarly-armored corpse up before him like a ghoulish shield in his offhand.

Continuing the advance as quickly as before, this time not even bothering to weave, he went directly for the closest squad of desperate Atlesians and clanking mechanical drones.

 _"-Analyzing movements. Recording for later analysis...-"_

Weapons fire absolutely riddled the impromptu shield, but rather than be torn apart, it almost seemed to absorb the damage, juddering and jerking, shimmering with a dull grey energy in time with the Trapper's own. And that's when I knew: Aura. Virgil was funneling his Aura through the body as a Huntsman would any weapon, using the power of his soul to increase its potency.

Of course, this was the first time I'd ever seen anything like this, and from what I could make out, I certainly never wished to again.

It seemed the Atlesians had similar ideas, the Paladin lurching its cumbersome way about to face the approaching swordsman. Clawed hands mecha-shifted into heavy energy cannons, rotary guns winding to life, missile turrets locking on its fast-moving target, ready to blast the Trapper off the face of Remnant with its entire arsenal.

Sensing the oncoming barrage, Virgil's sword flashed once more, slicing neatly across the surface of the ground before him. The Aura-enhanced force created a billowing cloud of snow dust and debris that mixed headily with the raging blizzard all around him, obscuring the Trapper from sight. Not that the enemy cared much, rifles still firing non-stop, determined to fill the space with as many rounds as possible to make up for the sensory loss.

To the horror of the Red Hand and Frontier troops, including my own gaping disbelief, a dark clad figure went tumbling forwards from the cloud, managing a tumbling step or two before falling face first in the snow like a marionette with its strings cut.

The Paladin wasn't satisfied - not by far - leveling its arms, and firing a quick one-two burst of energy that saw the body and everything around it turned to super-heated ash, steam, and charred dirt. Cheers welled up from the Atlas lines, coupled with cries of alarm and horror on our side, the Safeholders bowing their heads respectfully.

 _'...T-that didn't just...!'_ I tried to make sense of it, lowering my scope and tearing my gaze away from the fresh crater, unable to look any longer. _'It can't be. It just **can't...'**_

So lost was I in my reverie that I barely even heard LOCKE's cold analysis, alerts sounding in my ears.

 **"V-Virgil?"**

 _"-Detecting Vitals. Trapper Jett operating at nominal capacity.-"_ My head popped up, the scope practically slamming back against my visor in my haste to reestablish a link, to understand what the AI had just said. _"-Detecting only minor elevation in standard recorded heart rate. Introduction of recorded combat stimulants via auto-shunt administered. Standard heart rate increasing...increasing...-"_

 **"Wait... _WHAT_!?"**

Something burst like a cork from the top of the receding smoke screen. Something inhumanly fast, trailing snowy debris behind it, and clutching a pair of twin sabers now held out at his sides like great silver pinions.

 ** _Someone_** that had already landed silently in the midst of his initial targets in a near silent crouch before they'd even registered he was there and began to raise their weapons, weapons already falling from limp, spasming fingers, along with heads both flesh and mechanical.

Now it was our side's turn to cheer, though I was too lost in watching the man work his murderous craft to let loose such an outburst, my throat running dry as men and machines fell one after the other.

Some people might have described the swordsman's technique as a "dance," wild and flowing as it was.

Every individual sword stroke, each riposte, each stab, perfectly measured to clip arteries or sever limbs in splashes of sparks or more visceral fluids. And hardly any of it touched the Trapper, he was so fast.

Both swords moved in perfect concert with one another, cutting high and low in both tight and wide arcs near simultaneously. Legs and elbows struck out where sword could not, collapsing windpipes and knocking aside weapons and bones.

But this was no dance. Not even close.

Dancing had life all its own. Emotion, passionate drive behind even the slightest or most awkward of moves. This wasn't that, despite the show it made of it for ours and the enemy's sides both. This was just a perfect representation of a man clearing the obstacles before him, clinically and quickly.

No joy, no outward signs of effort, or anger, or even annoyance that there were still forces stood in his way. It was work for him, those of the strike force reduced to the tiny minutiae, and problems of another day. And he dispatched them seemingly without any emotion whatsoever.

No outward signs, anyway, which made me have to wonder exactly what was going through the older Trapper's mind. What did he see through that blind gaze of his?

Virgil's head always moving towards the next target, and the next, and the next... moving with the same assured speed down the lines, swords cutting more obscuring screens of sleet and snow that trailed in the Trapper's wake.

The only indication of his path - and hardly a sure one, at that - was him weaving past some soldiers entirely, only to spear those moving to support them while the others wondered what was happening. Spreading panic and fear tactically along the lines. A similar tactic to those we'd used against the White Fang back in the old days.

 _'Softening up the prey...'_

Moving too quickly for the Paladin to accurately follow without risking its fellows in the attempt, the Trapper used his enemies and the environment as shields. Fading away from one group, only to strike at another where none expected him.

Charging feints towards one group, before leaping upon another a split second later, rending them down, then moving succinctly to the first before his victims had even fallen. A neat throat-cutting swipe to the soldier in front of him, even as he spun his free sword in his hand, and lunging backwards with a reversed thrust without even "looking," spearing the droid that had been about to attack his blind side right through the power cell in its chest.

A flick upwards to sever its head from its shoulders, and then a swift jump to kick the now freed hunk of metal with such force and velocity, it smashed another trooper's helmet in a few yards away as he'd tried to line up a shot.

Every movement choreographed to what happened around him. Like he could see it all, because he _could._

Sidestepping the renewed fire from a gun emplacement, eliminating the unfortunate gunner before shouldering the still-firing turret, triggers held by dead weight, and turning it on the dead man's poor, startled comrades.

He didn't try to purge them all, didn't try to show off. He did what he could... And _gods,_ he did it well.

On and on it went, the man accomplishing in mere minutes what our initial Vanguard had failed to do in our first attack, leaving only shattered, wounded, or confused soldiers to stand in his wake, and plenty not standing at all. A decimated line of winnowed-down souls, and, from the vitals overlaid on my display, he was just getting started.

Soon, only the Paladin itself was all that stood before him and his prize now, the Trapper darting aside from explosions of debris as the heavy platform brought its hulking hydraulic hostility to bear, unleashing an arsenal designed to combat large Grimm upon the young man who stepped, juked, and rolled through it all.

That's when the first stirrings of excitement pulsed through the blind warrior, flitting about, landing cut after cut, carving deep rents in the thick armored plating while remaining only the barest steps ahead of snaking streams of small arms fire and explosions that threatened to take the ground out from under him.

Occasionally only escaping by the skin of his teeth, using the arrows drilled into its carapace as handholds with which to affix himself to the hulking metal behemoth flailing underneath him, he cut at vital systems and exposed circuits with abandon, managing to disable the motor functions of one arm, and carve a gaping rent in the canopy large enough to reveal a faint glimpse at the man within, before flipping gracefully to land before the suffering giant. Not a step out of place.

 _"Marvelous!"_

I gave a start as Virgil's rasping chuckle crackled to life over the line, sounding as if he were quite having the time of his life, rather than dueling with something that could end it in one feinted misstep.

 _"Simply marvel...!?"_

A backhand from the Paladin's remaining claw battered him aside into a snow drift hard enough to send up a cloud of rubble. One that soon exploded further into scattered pieces under the combined firepower of the weapon's ministrations, and its now thoroughly-desperate pilot.

All was still, then, but I'd learned the last time. Not even bothering to take the shot on the pilot when offered on a silver platter. It felt too much like a trap, and I wasn't one to steal another's show.

Not this one, anyway. Not when Virgil's vitals had finally sparked into something resembling fury.

The mech pilot guided his mount forward, managing only one comping step towards the smoking crater when twin shock waves of grey-tinged energy tore free of the cloud of destruction, striking the giant full in the front of its chassis, buffeting it backwards a few clomping steps. More streamed behind the first pair, each crashing off armored plate, until even that splintered, exposing delicate joints and circuitry beneath.

 _" **YOU!... DO NOT... INTERRUPT!... ME!** "_

Virgil himself followed up soon after, vaulting from the mist so quickly I could barely follow his path through the air, plumes of snow and the occasional glimpse all I earned. And if anything, his assault was even more pronounced than that overwhelming display.

He surrounded the walker on all sides, giving it no respite, no escape to disengage, sparks dancing across its form, the Trapper hitting it like a tempest of whirling silver and silent astonishing fury.

The leg buckled under its own weight as supports were sundered in moments, pitching the Paladin to the side as its pilot attempted to check the motion. Its lone working arm rose up to try and ward off its torturer, that falling a moment later with its primary motor functions were severed, cables sparking and dangling freely in the wind.

In his rage, his irritation finally stoked to the forefront, Virgil tore the pinnacle of Atlas Technology down piece by piece until finally he stood perched atop the canopy of the barely twitching machine. Coldly furious, looking down, sword poised over the rent where I could see hints of motion within the Paladin, the pilot now trapped inside feverishly attempting to thumb the release no doubt, still thinking he could escape.

 _" **Hah... Hah... Hah...** I hope... I hope that this lesson...was informative," _my superior growled, finally sounding out of breath, shoulders heaving only slightly under the weight of his momentary loss of control. He straightened suddenly, as if realizing the moment of weakness, another low sound of irritation, at himself now, before speaking once again with more levity. _"Locke, signal... signal the transports. Inform them of our acquisition."_

 _"Of course, sir. Establishing connection now."_

 **"W-wha...?"** I stammered through dry lips, finding myself unable to breath in the mask any longer.

Tearing the visage free with a gasp, cold hail biting at newly exposed flesh, I came back to myself just in time to watch the sword stab downward, the mighty Paladin following suit a moment later.

No longer a threat, its only function now was as a perch from which the Trapper looked back to the assembled surviving groups of Frontiersmen and Red Hand alike, holding a sword outstretched towards the surviving forces left in his wake, before gesturing at the walls of the facility. Of the prison we'd come to liberate.

The sun itself shone down upon him, catching the reflection of his weapon in a way that made it almost appear as though he were wielding a bar of light itself.

Like something out of a fairy tale...

 **"** _ **FOR THE CAHALRYM! FOR VICTORY! CHAAAARGE!**_ **"**

Those of our men and women still standing hesitated only a few scant heartbeats, staring in undisguised awe at the Trapper standing like some armored champion atop the corpse of a beast slain by his hand, a thing from the tales twisted into dark brutal reality. Then the dam burst, cheering warriors and lightly-armed soldiers alike rumbling from cover, morale soaring in the moment of their undisputed leader's victory.

In the face of that, none could stand, let alone fight back.

 _"...One last matter, Brielle."_

That cruelly frigid voice whispered in my ear bead alone once more, even as the man himself disembarked from the limp form of the Paladin towards the terrified Troopers still remaining on the field or within the facility itself, violent purpose pervading every assured step. His attention, his words, both taking on a tone that left the muscles in my arms trembling with the effort of steadying my rifle's aim.

 _"While our force's commanders have proven woefully incompetent, it is still a shame to see them fall to the enemy. Is it not?"_

"I... What? What do you...!?"

My eyebrows rose behind the the tinted visor, mouth working a couple seconds more, unable to breathe, let alone form anything resembling coherent speech. When sound did return it was in a ragged gasp of surprise upon realizing my body had shifted unconsciously, _Blooming Whisper's_ scope now fixed on the image of the hapless Captain and the boisterous Savage, charging amidst their men under the cover of the blind Trapper's rampage.

Bile welled up in the back of my throat, especially when I realized I'd actually fingered the trigger, lining the shot up in my mind on pure instinct.

Two quick pulls, and two bodies would fall to the ground with wounds indistinguishable in the pitched combat. Just bad luck and a missed enemy. Nothing more...

One who defied orders and sought to run, the other a hothead all too willing to lead his people into the fire without a care for those who burned away...

 _'But did they really deserve to be...?'_

"Virgil, I... I..."

 _"_ ** _Is it not,_** _Miss Brielle?"_

The first of us and among us spoke once more. The one man that I looked at with a mixture of both potent fear and endless admiration. Somehow managing to keep his voice so calm, so assured, even as I saw the distant outline of a dark-armored figure spearing two flailing mechanical bodies above his head, tossing them back at their fellows to secure his approach.

This was a test, his actions earlier done not just to cement the loyalty and respect of those now under his command despite such losses, but to make clear to me exactly what he was capable of. There was no running, no chance of escaping from that.

 _'And with the heads gone, who else would their people follow but their savior? The man who killed a Paladin single handed?'_ Brutal, but necessary to the Cause, no doubt, just like the Red Hand's purge had been.

Even the merest thought of defying him was enough to set my heart skipping even faster than usual, the sound filling my ears.

I was trapped, as surely as the one we had come and sacrificed so much to save within that complex. And he wanted me to know it, too...

So I did what I had to do. I breathed in a deep, steadying breath, and exhaled, dispelling myself of doubts and fears. That state of mind was what allowed me to do what I did best. To act and deliver the Red Hand's judgement to those deemed an enemy... Enemy, or liability.

"Yes... Yes it is, sir."

I nodded, letting my cheek rest gently behind the scope, fingers and wrist already making the necessary micro adjustments to account for distance, wind speed, external ballistics, Dust reactivity... and finally brought my finger to the trigger in earnest.

"A real shame."

* * *

 ** _-Robert Lancaster-_**

 _"_ Hmm?"

The first indication something was amiss had been the sirens, loud, wailing klaxons screaming their alerts along the outer length of the compound just barely audible enough for someone like me to pick up, eyes narrowing as I tried my best to ignore the guards' hasty mutters and swift exits.

A Grimm attack, maybe? It would make sense, after all. Prisons were hardly beacons of beaming sunshine and kittens.

 _'No.'_ I leaned down to pick up the flimsy food tray haphazardly tossed underneath a sliding panel in the wrought steel door, picking at my mush idly as the possibilities abounded. _'This is something different. Something...'_

My thoughts trailed off absently, the whole affair a decent enough diversion, but with little to satisfy my curiosity. And it was clear from my jailers' sudden bout of awkwardness that I wasn't going to be getting clear answers any time soon.

So I waited and watched, noting how the men and women patrolling the bland, stark white halls seemed unusually tense, even by Atlesian standards. A bite of the lip there, a few tremors of hands reaching for radios, or clutching at weapons. But nothing obvious to those not trained to look.

Clever, really. No reason to excite the facility's guests unduly, after all, as life behind bars trundled its dreary monotonous way along, my mind racing on what I would do to those that had wronged me once I got out, moving about the glorified, dreary, dimly-lit broom closet that constituted my cell. One with barely enough room for me to lay flat across the floor, and only if I didn't raise my arms, or simply gazing at the ceiling on that brick I called my bed.

My time utterly wasted, just the same as it had been every other day for weeks... Months... Years?

 _'By the gods themselves, how long have I been cooped up in here!?'_

I railed impotently against the boredom and outlandish inanity of it all, seething anger and killing rage bubbling up in my gut, sweeping the chunky paste that barely qualified as food against the wall with a lighting fast sweep of the hand, teeth bared and snarling as I fought and failed to regain my composure.

 _'Ambrose did this to me. Ambrose and his partner, that little...!'_

Still, despite the undeniable well of disgust it set broiling in my gut, I recoiled physically at the thought of the Dog Faunus. To think that just the thought of her had me flinching away from the mere memories of her torment. It was... Gods, I was dwelling on that bitch! That notion left me almost gasping, a scarred fist crashing against the cell wall with enough force to leave a sizable imprint on the stone. Another mark to join the others that always seemed to spring up whenever thoughts of _Maxine Argus_ became... untenable.

I rubbed at aching knuckles, whispering bittersweet niceties and mental blocks, at least until I was finally able to calm down long enough to convert the pain into motivation. The drive to hunt and leave that miserable, degenerate beast a pincushion with the number of arrows I would feather her with, mark my...!?

The second arrived in the form of a slight tremor rippling through the complex. It was so brief and so weak that I doubt I'd have caught wind of it if I hadn't been in the middle of my fourth set of push ups for the day, as if I had anything better to do, pausing with a grunt of surprise at the vibration coursing across my raw palms.

"W-what the...!?" My confusion was short-lived, the entire cell jolting hard, as if the building were trying to uproot itself, throwing me to the side, and setting dust and debris trickling from the mortar overhead.

Instinct and training took over in an instant, my body moving on practiced reflex, and seeking secure ground, senses keyed outward in an attempt to build the situation in my head, going over scenarios one after the other.

 _'Grimm? No, we might be in the middle of nowhere, but the Tin Men keep things pretty clear...'_ The Atlesians weren't that dumb. No way a horde had formed on their watch. Natural causes? _'No, that wouldn't have had the guards nervous... That just leaves...!'_ An outside force. And seeing as, aside from a few rogue Huntsmen and low level White Fang, I was the only prisoner of any real note, that meant that the culprits had to be...

"T-they... They came for me." I felt a weak chuckle spill from my lips, and build a knowing smirk across my face at the sight of lights flickering, " _They actually came for me!_ " I said, stronger this time, a bold declaration followed by what was unmistakably the sound of cell doors sliding open throughout the facility. Both guards and other prisoners were caught in place with slack jaws and wide eyes, stunned by the turn of events, unable to react for those first few unbelievable seconds.

And then the wall came down with a crash, and a tide of howling criminals and ne'er-do-wells poured into the central halls, the hapless guards finding their stride only heartbeats behind them. Compressed shields sprang from wrist gauntlets, stun batons crackled to sparking life, and the screams rose in pitch and ferocity to compensate.

The crack of rifles going off, loaded with rubber I expected. Atlas might be harsh, but they certainly weren't _that_ harsh. A weakness they were gonna regret when I got out.

But yet, despite the tense seconds ticking by one after the other, my door stayed resolutely shut, not even budging an inch, cold dead steel as always, unyielding to my shouts and kicks.

"Damn it, _c'mon!_ _Let me out!_ " I screamed myself hoarse, rapping my scarred fists against the tiny window up until I was forced back with a curse, clutching at my ears as a some pale-skinned Faunus slammed face first against it, sliding down, and tinting my meager view a deep familiar crimson. "What is this!?"

 _"A test, Mr. Lancaster."_

Every muscle in my body stiffened, aside from those in my neck as it almost snapped itself in my haste to turn towards the wall set intercom, unable to help the tightness in my jaw at the sound of that familiar rasping wheeze. Devoid of its usual distorted treble it might be, but that voice was unmistakable, especially to any who'd gone through what I have at its owner's hands. A voice that a fool would've considered weak, until one realized the raw will, brutality, and strength behind it that rendered all other qualifiers unnecessary.

 _"We've spent much, both in resources and manpower, to carry this operation out. Forgive me for wishing to be sure of its worth."_

Typical. So fucking _typical._

The chaos was easing outside my little abode, the guards driven back or otherwise indisposed at the moment, but the prisoners weren't moving. In fact, they seemed keen on sticking around, listening as some announcement was playing over the main line, different from my own. But when my name was mentioned, I couldn't help but groan and stretch a long slender arm, laced in corded muscle. Muscle I had little doubt I'd need in just a moment. _'If only I had my bow, maybe an arrow or two.'_

Ah, well. I'd dealt with worse. _Far_ worse.

"What is this, Virgil!?" Heavy stomps on steel grating, stolen batons and other improvised weapons clattering about alongside calls and cheers. "I'm Red Hand, a Trapper! Open the door! You know I'm loyal! I didn't talk!"

Loyal. That, I damned well was. My whole family even. And I'd spat in Ironwood's face the minute he even suggested otherwise. Of joining up with the likes of Ambrose and his ilk after what he did. After what he took from me.

The Mistrali clan of Lancaster had been working against the Faunus menace since the days of their little " _Revolution,_ " even further back than that, if my parent's stories were true. Generation after generation of soldiers fighting the good fight. The Red Hand had been our chance, mine and my older brother's, to do some real good. To end things once and for all. Drake had been proud to serve the Second Generation, and I'd been proud to follow in his footsteps with the Third.

And yet Joel had turned on him, murdering him in cold blood.

 _"I am well aware of your situation,"_ the voice replied, all calm separation and distance, as if we weren't practically brothers in arms, if not blood, though in some circles of the Hand, of the Trappers, that counted for more. _"Your cell door **will** open in a moment. You should be made aware, however, that things within our organization have... **progressed** since your capture and imprisonment. Much has changed."_

"What? You mean linking up with the Frontier? Gunning for the Kingdoms in the first concerted effort to hit them since the War?" Silence met the statement. Whether that meant I actually caught the blind man off guard or not, I couldn't be sure. Still, it felt nice to wonder. Even nicer to believe I had. "I'm not completely blind and deaf in here, even out in the middle of nowhere. You trained us too well for that!" Appeal to his pride a bit. Virgil Jett's lone weakness, if you could call it that. "I've heard things. I've seen how people react to me lately. The Commander's been busy back home!" A note of pride eked itself into the words. Pride in the Red Hand, pride at what my allies accomplished. "I'm excited to get back into the fight, Virgil. I've had time to think on my mistakes, and I swear I won't fail you, or our brothers and sisters, ever again!"

The shouting was getting closer, cheers and cries welling up to such volume it was almost difficult to catch the blind man's next words. _"No... you will **not.** But as I said before, this is a **test.** " _Okay, that didn't sound comforting, and neither did the growing ruckus echoing right outside my door. _"The Red Hand came here to strengthen its forces. This prison holds within it many of the most ruthless individuals captured within the Kingdom of Atlas, all of whom I suspect would make fine soldiers, if given the opportunity."_

"V-Virgil... sir?" They were right outside now, banging on the door, their jeering unintelligible in the overwhelming mix of voices. "What... W-what is this? What's going on!?"

 _"We don't have room for all them, unfortunately, so I've proposed a little challenge. An audition of sorts."_ For the first time since he'd first started speaking, I heard an edge of mirth show itself in his cracked and broken tone, and it chilled me right to the core. _"A simple thing. Bring me the head of the Trapper Robert Lancaster, and I will ensure that those responsible are given a choice. The choice to either to leave this place, and travel overland across treacherous frozen tundra rife with Grimm, with little in the way of supplies, but with the freedom they seek intact."_ Certainly not a smart choice. _"... **Or** they can join my assembled forces, find themselves well paid and well provided for under my command, with the chance to get back at those that locked them away to rot. I expect most will choose the latter, don't you?"_

Of course, I certainly would.

"So... that's how this is going to work, then?"

There was little anger showing itself in my expression. It wouldn't help to rage, not now. The fire stoking itself underneath the facade, however, had my fingers trembling. I'd expected a rebuke, but this... This was something else, and not something the Commander Violette I remembered would've approved of.

 _'Or maybe he's right, and things really **have** changed since I've been gone.'_

"What do you want me to do?"

There was satisfaction hovering in the pause, one that rankled me to the core, leaving my insides boiling. My heart began to beat more efficiently, more forcefully, as my adrenaline spiked. The world gained focus in the face of my Aura reasserting itself, my training leaping back to the fore as if that ill-fated assignment to the Badlands had been little more than yesterday.

I felt like a man again, rather then some caged beast. I felt like a _Trapper._

 _"I'll be waiting at the front gates. You will find me there when you are finished... **If** you do finish, that is."_

An alarm sounded, and the rapid hiss and clicks of receding locks made itself heard over the cacophony behind me, my lungs expanding with a final intake of breath. Ignorant was I of the bloody mess of howling flesh trying to force itself against the door before it had even started opening. The first a large brute of a man, all hair and wicked yellowed teeth through the window of my cell, eyes mad with murder, lust, and the prospect of freedom alongside a lucrative career.

All I cared about was listening to each word, using them as a center; as a focus.

 _"We depart in one hour. I strongly suggest you don't be late."_

It wouldn't help to beg forgiveness, to make excuses. I had a task; a mission. That's all there was to it.

 _'Didn't mean it doesn't hurt, though.'_

Of course, my complaints were a secondary concern, always had, always would be. Glory to the Red Hand, glory to the cause.

"Understood," I nodded, the door sliding open, and the ape of a man falling forward, charging with the strength of the milling mass of criminal humanity and his own desperation forcing him onward. He was bigger than me and knew it, smile building with every manic pulse of his heart, drumming in my ears. He never saw the knifing blow that I collapsed and then tore out his throat with in one fluid motion and a flash of Aura-enhanced fury, though he did see me leap frogging over his shoulder into the shrieking Lizard Faunus behind him, hands snatching hold of the cold blooded fool's head.

He might've even lived to see that particular foe drop right in front of him, skull mangled by muscles made strong drawing back a bowstring that would likely snap a normal man's arm, and might've even given a Huntsman pause. Muscles made all the stronger with months of intimate attention in the face of overwhelming boredom.

All of that within seconds, and I hadn't even touched the ground yet, kicking off shoulders and railing in my bid to tear my would-be-hunters apart amid acrobatics born of a need to move; to no longer be confined. To work out a few of the frustrations built up over months of waiting. All that damned _waiting._

And, as I wasn't ashamed to admit, it did help that I imagined every one of the faceless mass surging before me bore the face of that Faunus, Argus. Joel's little bitch.

That helped quite a bit.

It made it _fun!_

* * *

 _ **-Virgil Jett-**_

"You're sure about this?"

Iris had spoken up at last after almost a half hour spent in tense silence, standing alongside me at the gate to the complex with nervous energy almost palpable in her every fidget and twitch. That would have to be rectified, especially if she chose to forgo her mask.

Such lax conduct before our troops was inexcusable, though given the day's events, I chose to let the matter slide unpunished. Much of the nervousness was rooted in renewed respect... and fear. The will to question me showed rare backbone.

"It's just... I mean, _absolutely_ sure, Virg... Sir?"

She caught herself swiftly, noting the near imperceptible twitch of my head at the near slip. Such lack of decorum was common place in the old days, where Trappers could run unsupervised and flaunt their willful attitudes. Days long past in these times of unified vision. Of purpose, and allies with which to achieve it.

An army in truth...not just a pack of will full children. However skilled and dangerous.

" **Uncertainty doesn't suit you, Miss Brielle."** And it didn't. The skips in her accelerated heart rate, imperceptible to most, but not to me, betrayed her clearly. **"You disapprove."** A statement, not a question. I knew she didn't care for the idea of rescuing our wayward comrade, and of the sacrifices made to achieve it.

It mattered little. Her opinions were hardly more than a breeze to me. Something to experience, but rarely take any notice of.

"I just don't see the point in this."

 **"You're not required to _see,_ " **I reminded her tersely, the girl flinching back into place. Conditioning rooted in her very mindset. **"Only to _obey._ To serve, and do it well to the best of your considerable ability. That is all I ask of you, and all I will ask of him as well... _If_ he makes it, of course."**

"Looking like he's gonna to be late..." she muttered, tapping out a little beat against the mask at her belt with dexterous fingers. "If he hasn't already been...!" She perked up a moment after I allowed myself to react, the sound of bare footsteps limping across ice slick concrete coming slowly closer, the source having already entered the scope of my _Vision_ long before now. "Well, gods be damned..." she whistled, impressed despite her better judgement.

And how could she not be?

" _Well, it's about time!_ "

Robert Lancaster staggered up the incline that lead down into the complex proper, the voluminous jumpsuit he wore in tatters, revealing a frame marked clearly in corded muscle and bleeding wounds, right eye swollen shut, and a barely noticeable favoring of one leg over the other.

"Was wondering when the Commander would send someone for me." The Trapper and former inmate halted a few paces away, swaying just a tad, but standing tall nonetheless, pride and weariness both written across his marred features, hair hanging lankly about his face. "Never thought it'd be you." He turned his attention to Iris, looking her up and down with a sly nod, his female counterpart stiffening up in predictable response. " _You,_ I could've expected, at least. Been a while, Iris. Glad you've moved up in the world."

"And that's supposed to mean _what,_ exactly?" she said in a mock cheery tone, more senseless posturing. It was the cost we bore for making such warriors, competition sometimes the best to distinguish the strong from the chaff.

"Don't see Etho around. And you two are usually thick as thieves," he shrugged, shuddering slightly at the motion as something shifted inside him. A rib perhaps. " _Soooo,_ what? You dump him? He dump you? Or did 'Bird-Brain' finally get his wings clipped, and free a prize like you up for greater things?" Iris was outwardly composed, but a deeper look within was rather telling. Muscles grouped about her jaw, arms tensing, lungs drawing deeper breaths, and her heart rate accelerating as adrenaline and whatever else Raleigh had cooked up pumped its way into her system. "You're better off, least in my opinion."

"Seeing as you mucked up your biggest assignment and managed to get yourself locked up by some over-emotional Faunus, I don't see how your opinion matters much." Then she grinned, noting the shift in Lancaster, the twisted features, the sudden growl in the back of his throat. "You almost screwed us all! Took weeks for the Commander to trust the Third Generation again!"

"Wasn't my fault! There was something strange about that animal! A Semblance or...!"

"Then you were beaten by a Semblance? Oh, what an _original_ excuse. If I'd been chosen and failed as badly as you did, I'd at least try to have the dignity to...!"

"Bit hard to sit tight and snipe locked up in a train, isn't it? At least I wouldn't be utterly useless, you One-Trick Doll..."

"Spoiled weakling...!"

Ah, always a joy to see my little siblings getting along so. Warms the heart. Still, there was a limit to my patience when it came to the tittering of children.

The fight to tear open a path the the Prison had taken more than I'd expected, my body aching, oils stinging at burned flesh that was just beginning to overwhelm the stimulants present in my veins. My will-driven Aura strained, not quite to its limits yet, but close... Close enough that I was perturbed.

I was tired, and in no mood.

"...And even if I did screw up, it doesn't matter now, seeing as it looks like you're taking all the help you can get for Violette's new crusade." He crossed broad arms across his chest, voice laden with condescension. "You need me. Why else would you have done all this to set me loose, hmm?"

Robert stood up on tip toes, peering over my shoulder at the activity taking place behind us, Soldiers and warriors both scavenging what equipment and gear they could from the fallen, or working to secure the claimed Paladin in one of the stolen transports.

There had been sacrifices, as there always were, but the returns had been well worth it. This Paladin would join the others we'd obtained. The supplies would go towards arming and feeding the machine, every victory adding to our strength.

Quite a haul this time. Vehicles, weapons, armor... adding that to the curious Airship the Cahalrym had furnished me with, this "Storm Hawk," now affectionately referred to as a "Shrike" by our pilots.

How the man had managed to piece together the design from files left over, or how many hours and lives it took to make anything even close to the miraculous ship that had carried the Traitors away, I didn't know... And hardly cared.

The irony pleased me. That the brainchild of his rebellious nephew would so greatly serve our cause.

"Ooh, so those are the Hunds I've heard so much about, eh? Thought they'd be bigger. And that airship! What model is... _GAK!?_ " His condescension fell apart into a strangled yelp, only to be expected as my hand snatched hold of his throat, hoisting him bodily off his now flailing feet as if he weighed nothing at all. "Wha... Wh-what are you, _ack..._ d-doing, Virgil!?"

 **"Teaching you proper respect,"** I said in a distorted snarl, low and rumbling in its intensity. **"You will refer to the Commander thusly, or as 'Lord Violette,' or 'Cahalrym.' I care not which, but you _will_."**

"I-I don't...!" I choked the words from him with a twitch of my wrist. A little bit more, a slight increase in pressure, and I could snap his neck like a brittle twig. I enjoyed the feeling, within reason, of course.

 **"You failed the Red Hand, Lancaster..."** The young man struggled to free himself, pawing at my arm with his nails, trying to pierce the mesh layers beneath. Pathetic as the attempt was, it was still an admirable effort, if a pointless one. **"What's more, you failed** ** _me._ C** **onsider this Lord Violette offering you a second chance to redeem yourself. I will grant you no third. From this day forth, you are** ** _mine_ t** **o do with as** ** _I_** **please."** The Archer was well past red in the face, his lungs and pulse quivering erratically. Iris twitched, as if to offer aid or try to stop me, before thinking better of it. **"Do you understand?"**

"Guh...!" A twitch of the head, but I wanted to hear him say it.

 **"I asked you a question, _boy... Do you_** _ **understand!**_ ** _?_ "**

" _Ack..._ Y-yes!..." The word was a desperate croak from a closed throat, made only at the behest of a breath I allowed him. " _Gurk.._. Y-yes, I-I understand, Virgil!"

 **"To _whom_ do you belong to?"**

"You... _You,_ sir!" he wheezed, relaxing in my grip, realizing his place, if only as a drilled instinctive response to his superior. An improvement in the Third Generation, their conditioning making them malleable, adaptable to the needs required of them. "I-I... I belong to you."

 **"Yes... Yes you do."** I dropped him, allowing the young man to gasp and squirm at my feet for but a moment, before turning on my heel and striding towards the gate, towards the idling Storm Hawk shaded by the smoke of Frontier funeral pyres, and the wider world of Remnant beyond. **"Never forget that, either of you."**

Iris flinched back as if struck, Lancaster chuckling through his coughs, relieved I supposed at not being alone.

I didn't need to look behind me, or even use my Semblance to know I was being followed. One striding with the stumbling gait of a kicked dog, the other hesitant due to conflicts of faith and morality. Hardly the most useful pawns I'd wielded, but they would serve... or they would _fall._

 **"Now then, come along, you two. We have a war to win."**

 _'And a Kingdom to take...'_

* * *

-END

* * *

 ** _A/N: Haven't done an all out battle sequence for a long time, not since the Border stuff with Ben awhile back, hope it read alright. Anyway in short, Robert Lancaster, Third Generation Trapper encountered by Team AMBR during their mission to the Badlands is now a free man...kind of. We also get to see Safehold fighters in action as well as how Virgil is when he's done playing with his food._**

 ** _He's gone up in the world since the break, a bit more armor for that intimidation factor and some new swords. (Saw some Arkham night stuff, seemed appropriate)_**

 ** _Turns out in a situation like this, having the ability to see everything coming at once is a pretty amazing leg up._** ** _He's got plans, and now he's got forces loyal to HIM, not just to Violette and the Frontier and the Red Hand._**

 ** _Iris Brielle is an OC from Tech 776, as is her partner Etho Corvus currently working with Ben as a part of Team JADE._**

 ** _Also adjusted the VOs for Jacob and Natalie, changes are up in the prologue chapter._**

 ** _Have fun guys, try to make these chapters hefty to make up for the wait, just hope their worth it. Wheel in the sky keeps on turning and work just keeps going. - Mojo_**

* * *

 ** _(Next Chapter: A glimpse at beginnings, new and very very old.)_**


	13. Chapter 13

_**Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_

* * *

BAD DREAMS

* * *

 ** _-Reika Murasaki-_**

 _Beacon on fire in the distance, smoke cloying the air... I was back at Beacon Academy once more, back in Vale during the battle... and I was trapped. Held hostage in the dirt, surrounded by cackling monsters on all sides that howled and jeered at my helplessness. A burning weight was set against my back, searing its hatred into my skin..._

 _No, **NO!** Not trapped! Not again! **NEVER AGAIN!**_

 _Even in this dream - for a dream was what it was - I fought hard. Tearing the limb that bore me down apart with a scream, as terrible as it was unfamiliar, I rose and bore down on my tormentors, scattering their twisted masked faces to the winds._

 _It wasn't the same, though... It wasn't real, and I wasn't strong enough. Soon - too soon - I was shoved back to the smoking shapeless grass in a gasping heap, monsters in truth standing over me now. A horned devil wreathed in flames with a broken visage, a fanged maw dripping with blood from its spiked fists, and that shapeless, formless presence wreathed in writhing tendrils and jealous malice. The same thing that had torn into Maxine, ripped her asunder._

 _My friends. I could see them, too, shining like signal fires in the distance... And I couldn't help them. I couldn't save them._

 _Joel, strong, determined, steadfast... brought low by enemies on all sides, until finally overwhelmed by a silent blind figure encased in black. A sword stabbing forth for the Huntsman's heart..._

 _Maxine, fierce, passionate, loyal... ripped asunder by hatred, consumed by it, at war with herself, stolen away by monsters..._

 _Ben, clever, impossible, brilliant... and cold now, so cold. His light was being snuffed out, I could feel it. Smothered in the darkness and lost..._

 _"B... B... B..."_

 _Clawing hands tore into smoky grass shunts that pulled at me like chains, I dragged myself towards that guttering spark, mouth working feverishly. But he couldn't hear me... None of them could._

 _"_ _ **BEN!**_ _"_

* * *

"... _!_ "

"Ay, Lad, thinkin' this gal's awak... _Ack...!?"_

The first thing I noticed upon waking - panicked as I was, body lurching upwards into the candlelit gloom of a sparely decorated room, lashing out at the dark shape hovering above me, so reminiscent of those creatures in the dream - was a startled, high-pitched yelp of pain.

Not my own, of course, though my jaw was still moving silently as it gasped for ragged breaths, sounding out the name I still couldn't find it in myself to speak aloud, but that of another. A squat brick of a man with coarse burgundy-colored hair that fell about his head in lanky curls, distinctly pudgy around the middle of his tight blood-red jacket and dark trousers adorned in flashes of silvery finery, was rolling about on the metallic paneled floor, clutching for his nose and moaning shrilly into his hands.

And, staggering through the colorfully adorned bulkhead in response to the noise, was...

 _'Pino...!?'_

"Reika!"

A lanky figure, dressed in the familiar if now thoroughly disheveled fur cowled robes and ornate crimson mask of the Horo-Sha sprang into view through the doorway, hesitating a moment before leaping over the squirming man I must've hit with my backhand in his haste to get to me.

"Reika, it's alright! You're safe!" The young Healer's calm clear voice cut through the muddled haze of delirium, causing me to blink once, twice, then reach for the lock of hair tied by my ear. The gentle chime of the bells was there, calming me slowly but surely. The Auratic imprint of my friend was even more so.

"You're safe. Shean, he wasn't trying to hurt you...!"

"Not before, I wasn't! Could've warned me she... _Argh..._ " The man, this "Shean," cried out in a chittering squeak of a voice. He ceased his floundering, and sat up, glaring Pino's way reproachfully as he brought his hands away from his face to reveal beady eyes behind a pair of thick glasses, along with... I flinched back on reflex at the sight of the gaping snout that had replaced much of the man's nose and mouth, the jaw lined with sharp incisors. "Ah, um, what're you... Oh."

The bat Faunus furrowed his heavily lidded brow, his snout sniffling in the aftermath of my assault. A tattoo, blue and intricate, lined the side of his neck, though I couldn't quite make it out from here, the bulk of it hidden behind his popped collar.

"Right."

"...?"

To be fair, I'd seen many a Faunus in my time, most during my years of tenure alongside Bill's band of outlaws, or less commonly at Beacon. This was the first time I'd witnessed such an extreme example of mammalian features. Or at least traits so noticeable, anyway. I was far more used to ears or scales, maybe the occasional feather or two, but this...

"It's okay." I felt Pino's hand gently land on my shoulder, noting the slight awkwardness to the motion, his masked eyes flitting between myself and the Faunus. Suddenly realizing how rude I was being, I lowered my head, hands already tugging at Pino's collar and signing quickly. So flustered were the motions that it took a few long seconds before the Horo-Sha could work out a proper translation. "She, uh... Reika says she's very sorry. It's just that..."

"No harm done. Already know I ain't the prettiest beau at the ball." The Faunus sniffed again, smirking in a way that was only just a little disconcerting given the curious structure of his mouth. "It's a bit of shock to most at first. I'm used to it."

And he meant it, too, from what I could ascertain from his Aura. And a sizable Aura it was, at that, from what my _Sense_ could...?

My head snapped from side to side sharply in response to the Auratic stimuli, finally regaining enough awareness of mind to recognize the sheer lack of familiarity in the space and sounds around me.

Rather than the gentle sway of the ocean carrying us along, whatever vessel this was seemed to hum its way through the waters at speed. The gentle creak of aged water-beaten wood replaced by the keening clang of metal, percussion, and distant song... A song that brought it all rushing back in an instant, and put my scrambling through the thick covers and blankets, fighting to get to my feet, though Pino put out a hand to stall me, to keep me down.

Just in time, too, my muscles cramping and protesting the sudden motions.

The ship had been attacked, pirates descending from the mist. The fighting brawl to repel them that followed... Captain Majorelle... I'd lost. What's more, I'd been caught.

 _"...Where are we?"_ I signed hesitantly, fearing the answer.

This feeling only grew at the sight of the young man stiffening slightly, looking over his shoulder at Shean, who was in turn watching my hands, and the motions they made, with sudden interest. My Semblance, it couldn't be right... If it was...

 _'No... **No!** Not again!'_

" _Pino, what is happening? The ship? Lux and the others? Are they...?"_

"...Oh, they're... Th-they're all fine. Just fine. Master... Everyone," Pino said after a slight pause and a twitch that rattled through him, his voice laden down with a stony edge I found unfamiliar, and thoroughly disturbing. That weight... It wasn't just a feeling. It was almost palpable in his Aura's signature as well. Some sort of stain, or shame... "Safe, at least when I saw them last. As far as I am aware. The people who attacked us, they...!"

 _"You don't know!?"_

"No, I don't! And their concerns are no longer mine!... That was made quite clear."

I was shocked, more at the dejection and subtle anger present now within the young man, a marked bitterness. _'What could have happened to make him...!'_

 _"...Get away from her!..."_

And I saw it, tucked awkwardly at the side of the Horo-Sha youth's belt, almost lost amidst the scattering of pouches and ceramic jugs but not quite. The outline of a forked knife, glinting silver against the dark fabric, coins and other fetishes jangling near silently from the handle with every twitch the boy made..

 _'...Oh no...'_

He saw that I'd noticed, backing away as I tried to reach for it, my fingers catching only air. _"Pino. Why do you have that?"_ I repeated the question, pointing at the offending weapon. I signed the question again and again and again, until I was forced, in my own mounting irritation and confusion, to shove him bodily backwards just to get him to look me in the eye. " _Why!? That's a weapon!"_

 _"_ I know what it is." The abrupt bluntness in the reply stun me, catching me off guard. "What of it?"

 _"What of it?... You...You shouldn't...!"_

"Well, it's mine now. That's what the Captain told me, anyway. I ' _earned_ ' it." He almost spat the word. His hidden eyes looking towards the implement, his hand twitching as if he'd meant to put a hand over the hilt like some stereotypical warrior, gleaming with bravado, before thinking better of it. He hated it, I could tell that without even needing to read him. The emotion was clear as day to any with eyes, even through the mask. "Why shouldn't I carry it, keep it close? It's a reminder."

 _"You are Horo-Sha!"_

"Not anymore, it seems." He kept his gaze on the floor, hoping the mask would hide his shame and dismay no doubt. Depending on the false strength his voice bore to carry his convictions. It didn't work, not by a long shot.

 _"No! This isn't right! What is wrong with...!? The Captain? You don't mean...!?"_

Pino was trembling now, no doubt struggling to find some way to explain the madness he was spouting, to try and making some sense. Thankfully for him, he never got the chance.

"I believe I can help fill in the blanks, if you don't mind, Lass. Shean Read, Boatswain under Captain Harper Majorelle, Merchant Prince of Mooring. Self-proclaimed master of those turbulent seas surrounding Rowan's glorious Frontier."

The Faunus clapped his hands together and introduced himself, dragging my ire from the young man, and facing my blatant suspicion and hostility without even flinching. Instead, he smiled warmly, as warmly as he could manage with that maw, the result still nowhere near what one might consider calming in the slightest sense of the word.

"Or mayhaps I can show you? It'll make things - your situation I mean - just that little bit clearer. Whaddya say?"

 _'Self-proclaimed..._ _ **Mooring!?**_ _'_

Even out in the Badlands - a place so devoid from the sea it might as well be on another planet entirely - I'd heard tales of such a fantastical place.

The Port City of Mooring: a famed haven cove of thieves, madmen, and those seeking to avoid the Kingdoms of Remnant for one reason or another. A place where riches flowed, and anything could be obtained for the right price.

"Fantastical" was right. No such place could exist even in the enigmatic borders of the Frontier to the north. The Kingdoms would never stand for it. But here this maniac stood...

"I would listen to him." My head turned to face Pino, biting my lip so hard it hurt when I saw him looking away again, focused intently on that weapon he was sporting. The same weapon he shouldn't even be comfortable even touching. It wasn't the Horo-Sha way. It wasn't _his_ way. "It is far faster. At least when providing reference."

" _What? From the word of our **jailer!?** " _I gestured sharply to the bat who was currently picking at his ear lazily, tongue licking at his flaring snout. _"Did you hit your head harder than I!?"_

He didn't know the word "jailer," the Horo-Sha never having envisioned the concept of holding another against their will. An irritating oversight, forcing me to go through maybe a half dozen iterations, trying to find a definition that stuck, only succeeding when Shean himself joined in and explained the foreign concept to him.

Somehow, he'd gleaned the gist of what I was saying over the course of our interaction.

That was disturbing enough on its own, as was the shake of the head I received from my friend.

"No, not "jailer,' Reika," Pino began with a sight, looking towards our strange acquaintance, a man who's loyalties I was quite certain I knew well. "Crewmate."

...Tense silence followed...

" ** _...!?_** "

* * *

After that startlingly unhelpful explanation, the Bat Faunus had declared it time to take a walk, and present myself to Captain Majorelle, once Pino was satisfied I could walk on my own unassisted. He'd, of course, offered to bear my weight, just as he had in those early weeks of recovery among the Horo-Sha, polite as always, holding out a hand.

One I didn't take.

 _"I don't understand...?"_

I flashed the question to my companion as we marched side-by-side behind Shean through the bowels of the ship, quickly making our way through a maze work corridors shod in metal, and humming with the influx of power from Dust bulbs set into the ceiling and the occasional sudden influx of wailing steam from winding pipes set in, and running along, the length of the walls.

At first, I'd attempted to map my way about the length of the titanic vessel, playing along, and seeking an escape route, anything I could take advantage of.

An exercise in futility, quickly squashed and replaced with a solid conviction that, after long minutes of endless hallways punctuated by awkward small talk between the Faunus and Pino, accompanied with an attempted and hastily aborted conversation aimed at myself, that the Faunus had to be leading us in circles.

Why he would, I had no idea, though unfortunately I would never know, my mind unable to keep up with all the subtle differences playing between differing decks.

Clamber down a wrought iron ladder, make our way to the left, and take every right turn for every three of the junctions, and left for every second. It was maddening, my mental fallacy only mounting when, in one instance, we actually doubled back around the way we had come, only to find a completely different set of spaces entirely that were still somehow eerily similar to those I recalled passing only minutes before. but reversed from how my memory depicted it.

It was maddening...

Suffice to to say, an escape wasn't happening anytime soon, if just the directions were making my head ache, even if we hadn't been surrounded on all sides every step of the way. Colorfully dressed souls - other members of the crew I supposed - moved everywhere I looked like ants through their nest, each going about their own appointed task.

A legion of men and women making small scale repairs with wrench and torch, providing maintenance to certain points that had seen many such treatments before under the command of overseers, marked out by finer clothes and displayed signs of wealth or simple bravado, servicing the ship with laughter and song to build a hearty rhythm that seeped into my bones, vibrating my lungs almost.

All, overseer and crewmen alike, nodded respectfully to Shean, indicating his uplifted status amidst this gallery of rogues. Though I was shocked, and a little perturbed, to see them offering the same treatment to Pino and myself... Most definitely myself. It was strange, not at all comforting.

I even recalled one or two of the passersby from my experience on the boat - a worrying enough notion in my current state - though none of them made any mention or note of it despite their own extensive injuries.

If anything, they'd seemed relieved to see me, their Aura's pulsing with a healthy concern as they'd asked after my health, offering to pay me back with a drink sometime once we "made it port side," thanking me for "getting them a break, despite a few breaks." Shean had seen the men on their way, the sounds of hearty cheer and the clatter of drink glasses following in their wake.

 _"What do you mean we're part of the crew?"_ I turned my eyes on our erstwhile guide, humming casually to himself, trusting us to follow along. Completely at ease, despite me being right behind him. Despite what he no doubt heard me capable of. _"I thought we were captured?"_ A light word to describe what really happened. Perhaps "crushed," "beaten down," "outclassed..."

"We... We were, sort of. I think. It's their way; Mooring's way... After you were... well," Pino supplied unhelpfully in his own awkward way yet again, shrinking closer to me as a pair of women in blanket-like cloaks, patterned crop tops, and artfully designed skirts that when taken all together were more swim suit than clothing called after him playfully. At least until urged back to their task at a raised eyebrow from the Bat Faunus, giggling to one another as they spared my friend, or at least his curious attire, second glances.

A thieves' stare, searching his body for valuables... Disguised, of course, and he fell for it badly.

Pino was flustered no doubt, unused to seeing that much skin as it was, at least outside the usual realms of his occupation... _former_ occupation, I guessed. I, of course, rebuffed him, stiff arming the yelping masked boy away with a silent stare.

"S-sorry, right... Right, yes. After your... _our_ 'conflict...'" A noticeable wince at the word, a slip despite his talk and his fancy new weapon, "...after the others fighting with you saw you fall, along with that ship coming out of the mist... Most gave up quickly after that. The others were given little choice but to comply after that."

Understandable. I was a Huntress. If I couldn't stop the invaders, who else would? Lux and his band of pacifists?

 _'No, that's cruel of me...'_ my thoughts chided, trying to find understanding, just as I had been shown. Harder than it seemed, my mind fixed on the memories of their meek surrender.

 _"And?"_ I pressed further, imploring him on. " _What happened then?"_

"Nothing that you wouldn't expect of pirates. Similar to what you might hear from the stories. They robbed the ship," Pino admitted, still sounding somewhat conflicted even so. "It seems our hosts had been less than honest with us when it came to revealing their cargo. Crates of Dust, hidden within the hold. Whether smuggled or stolen, I'm not too sure."

"Certainly not theirs to begin with," the boatswain said amicably with a snorting chuckle, making us both jump. "If you must know. Quite a haul."

"S-so after that, they gathered everyone aboard the ship together, and told us to calm ourselves before the Grimm, arrived."

Sensible. Sea-faring Grimm were among the hardiest, if I recalled Professor Port's lessons correctly. Difficult to hunt, many hunting in the depths for years, gaining strength before lashing out at anything foolish enough to cross their path. Small wonder the pirates wouldn't be too willing to deal with such creatures.

Many of the stories I'd heard of pirates told of how they made use of the negativity generated in their attacks to "clean up" their victims. No doubt they'd left Lux and the others to suffer some egregious...

"They offered to help. To leave the Dust and the ship untouched."

 _" **...What!?** " _I gaped open mouthed, and Shean only grinned that malformed grin of his, nodding along at Pino's story. " _Help_?"

"Yep. Is that so hard to believe? We're criminals, yes, but also businessmen, and definitely not monsters."

I balked at the crewman's explanation, seeing far too much of Bill Carson's own logic in it for my own liking. Bandits, yes. Dastardly, yes, but standards had to exist, lest we all fall to the Grimm.

"Your ship held quite a bounty, that's true. And not just in Dust. It's only right to pay back some small kindness in return for taking our share. 'Dead men tell no tales,' of course. Luckily, Mooring seems to prefer the tales to the silence."

" _What do you mean?"_ An obvious enough sign to recognize, though it still bothered me just how much he seemed to be following most of my conversations.

"The Captain -Cap'n Majorelle, I mean - referred to it as the... ' _Bnela,_ 'I believe it was." Pino sounded out the harsh phrase in a way that I could tell he was frowning, the word strange and foreign on his tongue, though somewhat familiar all the same. I guessed that made sense, these people being from the Frontier, like Joel.

Not that I could see many signs of resemblance between my stalwart leader and this ragged bunch.

In fact, I struggled to see much of any similarities between the pirates themselves aside from their outlandish clothing, the blue-tinged tattoo they all seemed to have somewhere on their skin, which they had no problems showing, it seemed, and the general airy lilt that seemed to define their very souls. A sense of... "freedom." A lack of ordered inhibition, maybe?

Skins of all shades, accents warring with accents, clothing of various styles equally represented, from heavily-altered Atlesian frocks and armor, Menagerie-born cuts in clothing and dress, to the gleefully elaborate Mistrali fabrics so similar to my own... Dancers, mechanics, common sailors, warriors...

The various defining characteristics of Remnant's societies condensed into a singular melting pot, sometimes literally in the case of scents on the air. Vacuan spices, Burn and Wind Dust, all mixed with sea salt and a metallic tang I couldn't quite identify. _'How curious...'_ I shook my head fiercely, refusing to give into distraction.

"The crews of Port Mooring are always seeking new blood to add to their ranks, and sometimes we must look to... outside help. The _Bnela,_ the 'Blood Price,' to seize something from those one has defeated through strength or guile. An old concept carried over from the Frontiersmen. You two made interesting prizes for the Captain, far more than mere Dust. A Healer and a Huntress." Shean heaved open a bulk head, gesturing to each of us in turn. "As you can imagine, neither profession tends to ever be unwelcome, especially on a ship like this one. And given the simple option to accept our demand, rather than losing their ship, their lives, or their misbegotten stores... well." A chattering squeak that might have been a laugh, or perhaps an expression of deeper understanding, maybe even sympathy. It was impossible to tell with this man, his Aura indistinct despite its strength. "It's rarely a difficult decision for most. And now here you stand, your lives now the concern of Ship and Captain, both. At least until one or the other tires of you."

Wide-eyed, I looked at Pino. The mask was expressionless, though his emotions radiated so powerfully, I didn't even truly need my Semblance to feel the dejection, the loss. "... _Lux? He...!?"_

"He did what they asked. For the sake of the People... Without... Without hesitation," he said, voice cracking towards the end, a trembling hand clutching at the hilt of his new weapon tightly as if afraid it would vanish. "Master, he... He wouldn't even _look_ at me. None of them did. None of my friends... My _family._ Not after..." He couldn't go on, falling silent, head bowed. "...I couldn't just sit by and do nothing. Why couldn't he see that?"

 _"So we're prisoners?"_ It was difficult to keep an edge of bitterness from the motions, clipped and curt, anger boiling to the surface at my luck, or goddamned lack of it. _"Slaves?"_

Again Pino, still dejected as he was, failed to translate the proper meaning. This time, however, Shean must've been expecting the question, or something similar to it.

"Careful with that word, Lass. Most, those from the Kingdoms, won't pay it much mind. But the real Frontiersmen, well... Let's just say they're a bit more serious than the rest of us. Long, dark history, and all. Wouldn't ask unless you wanted an earful." He waggled a pudgy finger playfully. "Anyway, pay it no mind. You're a member of the crew now till the Captain's done with you, and soon enough, you'll earn a job that suits you. Easy enough for you, Lad, and you'll be expected to work hard for your next meal, just like the rest of us. We're a fair lot in that regard, you'll find. No free rides on this ship. _Prisoner_ or not."

We stepped through the bulkhead onto a gantry surrounded on all sides by rumbling fluted metal reeds and complex latticeworks of tubing and pipes, the sound of rushing water, steam, and rumbling engines far more apparent now, as well as the rush of air laced liberally with salt.

Figures in heavy leather aprons swung about on hip mounted reel lines, shouting over the cacophony at one another. Checking the integrity of lines, noting faults, swiftly fixing them before moving to the next in an effort to keep the great machine running at peak efficiency. Like some hive of drones, each moving in concert with the other in time to the beat of some distant song playing off in the background. One that had been present since I'd reawakened.

Longer, if I was being honest. During the attack, maybe even before somehow.

"It's difficult at first, and dangerous, but you're paid a stipend, along with your pick of spoils and loot of course. _Bnela_ counts for you two now, as well." His beady eyes lingered on the jingling weapon at the Horo-Sha... at the _former_ Horo-Sha's hip. "A new life, a new family... It''s all opportunity, and opportunity's only ever what you make of it, as the Captain says."

"What does that mean?" Pino said, warily, confused by the man's words no doubt as much as I was. "Opportunity for what?"

"Whatever it is you're capable of doing, Lad!"

A hearty clap on our shoulders as suddenly he was behind us, my heart skipping a full beat. ' _How did he...?'_

"In the Kingdoms, I was just a Faunus. No... Worse than that even. A _scary_ Faunus. I stole to get by, did things I wasn't proud of. Spat on by whatever people didn't run away screaming or turn their heads in disgust. But in Mooring, in the Frontier, a person can be whatever they can aspire to. So long as they got the drive to reach for it."

He looked around the bowels of the mighty vessel lovingly, like how one might perceive an old friend. It was an recognizable expression, even on a face like his.

"Here, I make my own way. Here... in this place, I'm helping write the story of one of those rare souls; a legend in the making. The kind of person that seems to make the world turn about him. A man I choose to follow, and leads us to a new adventure everyday. And I can be of assistance in my own small way as well." He raised a hand, a curl of thick mist wafting from what I realized was his Aura, much to Pino's amazement and my consternation. "My little trick, one the Captain finds quite useful."

The haze vanishing an instant later, he marched us through one final hallway, culminating in a bulkhead painted more like a mural than a doorway, dotted with flowing designs of the aquatic creatures I'd really only ever seen served in restaurants, all revolving around a central image, that of a smiling face peeking out behind a blank-faced mask, the same symbol I realized I'd seen the rest of the crew wearing in some fashion on their skin, including the Faunus' meaty neck.

Pino subconsciously reached for the visage he still wore, even my hand twitched towards mine, worn loosely about my neck like jewelry.

"Living for each sunrise as though it were the last, with friends and family aplenty. Certainly worse ways to live one's life, don't you agree?"

For some odd reason, I thought of Ben, the words his father had had me swear by, even when I'd have followed them to the letter regardless. This man served, but it was his choice, and one he made proudly.

 _"I...I..."_ I wasn't quite sure if it was possible to stammer in sign language, though if it was I was sure I'd just done so. Finger tapping against my chest at the sound of latches being undone, releasing a hiss of pressurized air that whined loudly in the confining space.

"Now, onto the _real_ treat."

The sudden onrush of sunlight filling the space when the man wrenched open the steel slab was practically blinding, forcing mine and, from the sounds of it, Pino's shut as we were both practically shoved past the threshold into the open. The pair of us blinked rapidly and... and were stunned speechless, and signless in my case, by what lay before us.

The ship itself was a dreadnought of metal and wood expanded to a scale neither of us had ever witnessed, at least from where we stood at the top of one of its upper decks. It's prow, sharp like a blade that cut rather than sailed through the waters currents, was covered in thick plate that almost seemed to steal the reflections from its immutable surface, a trait carried by much of the hull it appeared. A bowsprit of banded silver speared outward like a lance to point the ship's path, and hold a sail thick with curving graceful designs, and colored banners that trailed in the winds.

What drew my eyes, however, was the figurehead, shaped of salt-bleached wood and well worn, though its inspiration was still clearly obvious as was the mask it bore. A representation of perhaps the most terrifying creature, the most terrifying Grimm, I'd ever seen. One that stole my breath away just looking at its terrifying Aura.

"Welcome, my new friends!"

Shean spread his arms wide, his spectacles tinting in the sunlight by some mechanical virtue as his voice drew the eyes of the crews bustling down below and high above. Many turned from the rigging, cleaning, and general air of business to stare and grin, some even cheering.

"Welcome aboard the _Colorless Prism_! For Harper and Plunder!"

 ** _"FOR HARPER AND PLUNDER!"_**

* * *

 _ **-Joel Ambrose-**_

 _It had been a brisk day, I recalled, shivering despite the itchy suffocating patchwork of furs garbing my tiny frame._ _Dreadfully cold, despite being on the tail end of Autumn, swiftly bleeding into the Spring seasons. So cold to the point small patches of permafrost had begun to form along the bare branches and gnarled, iron-hard trunks of surrounding trees..._

 _This had been during my first ever foray beyond the safety and relative security of Bastion's towering wall. When I had joined my grandfather, uncle, mother, and cousin as a guest of the roving tribes of Safehold._ _Those famed warriors who I, and every other child, had spent a lifetime hearing about in legends and tales of past glories._

 _Brave souls charged by Queen Rowan herself to defend Her and Mankind's Frontier from threats within and without, be it Soul or Soulless. Eschewing the safety and stability of walls in favor of embracing the land's more feral attributes._ _Forging themselves so as better to prosecute their role as Her most ardent supporters, Her most savage defenders, Her greatest warriors..._

 _It had been a chance to renew and reaffirm old compacts of family and friendship, for the Cahalrym to forge new allegiances between Bastion and her sister community, and to present myself to the Sons and Daughters of Akan the Red-Handed._

 _A time long before I'd learned such things as the Seasons were hardly set in stone out in the broader expanse of Rowan's Frontier. Where weather was often times fickle and dangerous. Where one didn't have a great silvery bulwark to guard against the worst the elements had to offer. Even so, amidst the wide range of jagged crags and deep forests common to the region, it was hardly uncommon for there to be... oddities, pockets of resistance against the natural order of things._

 _Sites where magic was thought to dwell, or so it was said by the Skalds of Safehold. The fanciful storytellers, and those more superstitious than most in the modern world today would condone._

 _The glade in which I'd stood then could only have been one such place..._

 _Where the rest of the forest surrounding it seemed dull and lifeless, devoid of any color except the muted grays of bark and the papery brown of dried leaves underfoot, this place had been vibrant... No. If anything, "vibrant" seemed too simple a word to do the site justice._

 _Here, in this small clearing somehow untouched by shifting geography and grasping foliage, a clear if unseen boundary existed that separated it from the rest of the world._

 _Everywhere one looked showed signs of growth, the air tasting of it._

 _Blooming flowers and drifting petals of every shade imaginable dotted the forest floor to my knees like a living carpet, root systems rising from what should have been solid ground to form elaborate knotholes and natural archways, shot through with further flowering vines that bore colorful fruits of every shade, and held strong with musculature formed from thick cords of winding ivy._

 _All of it almost seeming to shine with a strong internal vigor that was almost palpable, even to my then juvenile grasp of Aura and the nature of things like the Soul._

 _And it wasn't just the plants showing these rebellious signs of resurgence either. Humming insects the size of my fist and literally glowing with an inner luminescent fire flitted about in the long shadows cast by jagged tree branches overhead, gently tumbling through the air like cinders thrown from the flames. Small rodents, though quite larger than anything I'd ever seen in the alleys of Bastion, scurrying from their dens, rustling the flower beds, and filling the air with gently blown petals._

 _None of the harsh botanical and animal predators that I'd been warned so harshly against, at least as far as I could tell._

 _I trusted I wouldn't have been brought here otherwise if they had been present, these beings merely content to watch and observe, before vanishing once again like the playful spirits in the stories._

 _This site, this Sanctuary, where life pure and simple, flowed in almost blatantly obvious abundance... Which only made the presence of death and decay within its sacred borders all the more... **distinct.**_

 _"What happened to it?"_ _I'd whispered then, breathlessly._ _As if worried any loud noise might risk rousing the great beast of matted fur and twisted antlers lying there motionless before myself and a pale-faced Robyn Violette, who clutched at my gloved hand tightly in her own._

 _Her violet eyes were wide and staring, even as they scanned the boundary of this little paradise, searching for something. Hidden dangers, maybe?_

 _T_ _he rational part of me had known this was ridiculous. That the creature was lying so still, without even breathing, for a reason. That the curious mottled crimson daubing the ground and plants around it was a sign of something far darker than sleep._

 _I'd seen death before, of course, in the vermin skittering within the Outer Districts of Bastion, and in the funerals held for brave Huntsmen and Huntresses all too often in the halls of Aegis. Grandma Guinevere, the kindest woman I'd ever known, had looked quite the same at the end, showing that same somber peace._

 _But never had I seen it quite like this. Quite so... **violent.**_

 _The reality was bare of all the dressings and ceremony usually affixed to hide such things. And the scent alone... My nose wrinkled at the scent of decay and musk._

 _The massive elk creature bore long, jagged scratches, tears, and puncture marks along most of the flesh I could see not covered or clotted with coarse fur. This animal hadn't just died. It had been killed, and brutally so. I knew such things could be hunted, the livestock of their herds feeding and clothing the people of Safehold, but to think anything but those heroes could possibly... No. Something else could._

 _The Soulless. The Darkness' servants..._

 _What's more, if I'd just noticed such an obvious detail, Robyn would already be a dozen steps ahead, no doubt._

 _My cousin, the brave Huntress-in-training, dressed in combat gear of light flexible leathers and violet skirts that had seen her through the trials of Aegis, blonde hair done up in its usual beaded braid and tail. **Daylight Duchess** \- her weapon - was affixed to her other arm, I knew, and hidden beneath the folds of the cloak she wore about her shoulders. But despite all that... she was on edge._

 _"Robyn...?"_

 _"I-I don't know, Joel. Just stay close to me, and don't touch it."_

 _On edge, and trying to hide it. Poorly. That, more than anything else, was what had made me so uneasy. Why I squeezed her hand, and was relieved when she swiftly squeezed back. She was nervous, too. That was sobering, and a reminder of that childish promise made so long ago. I had to be brave. I couldn't give up. Never, not ever!_

 _It didn't know what manner of beast had done this, nor did I care if it was nearby. I would be strong in the face of danger, just like Mom and Grandfather! I would..._

 _...Flinch sharply with a startled shriek at the all too sudden *CRACK* of tumbling motion burst to violent life behind us._

 _Robyn rounded towards it in an instant, with weapon poised at the ready, and aimed at the slightly young, auburn-haired figure that had suddenly coalesced from seemingly nowhere, brushing crackling embers of Aura and squashed plant petals as she clambered unsteadily to her feet, red faced from exertion and panting heavily._

 _"Quiet, Cousin! Unless of course you actually **want** to attract every beast in earshot!"_

 _Aubrey, daughter of Delphine "Soul-Strong," Scion of Akan, newly-recognized Warrior of the Safehold Clans, and my relative on my father's line... had snarled at me just as loudly as I'd been, if not more so. As if that mattered._

 _Her expression shifted to a dismissive scoff across a sun-kissed face as she straightened to her full impressive height, towering half a head over Robyn despite being at least two years her junior._

 _Lean, corded muscle showed on her bare arms, where her mother and leader was dense, bulky, and indomitable. Beautiful, too, though the girl had taken it almost as a personal affront when Mom and Robyn herself had commented on her looks._

 _A long-nailed hand schooled wild auburn bangs back into position, only for it to fall back over a golden eye incessantly, the rest pulled back in a messy tangle of a Hund's tail that fell to the small of her back._

 _I'd found the quirk amusing when I'd first noticed it._ _Though between the feral gleam in her gaze, the pale sheen of the fresh ritual scars curling about her forehead beneath her bangs, and the ornate silver-plated spear taller than she herself was clutched in her other hand, jingling with affixed totems, I certainly wasn't snickering then. Quite the opposite, really._

 _Thankfully, I wasn't the target of her ire. At least... not really, anyway._

 _"What were you thinking, bringing the runt out here!?" t_ _he younger woman demanded, advancing on the two of us with her gaze securely leveled on Robyn, dressed as she was in the form-fitting, fur-lined grey and brown leathers and hides of her people, already laced through with small personal trophies, and daubed with curving blue and crimson painted tribal sigils that were meaningless to all but those of the clans themselves._

 _Looking back, they were markings of note, I supposed._ _Savage Nobility opposite Civilized Grace._

 _My other cousin, to her credit, stood her ground calmly in the face of this,_ _ **Daylight Duchess** lowering with a heavy sigh of relief, and something akin to annoyance. For my sake, I noticed with a small flush of embarrassment, doing my best to go unnoticed in the combined shadow of the Huntresses._

 _Not that that was very hard. I hated being small..._

 _"I told you to stop calling him that." Robyn, always looking out for me. Aubrey, on the other hand, only deepened her scowl. Quite a feat, actually._

 _"Oh, forget that! There are those asking questions, demanding answers! Your father, his mother, even the Cahalrym! They asked if I knew where you both were...!"_

 _"Oh, and did you tell them?"_

 _Robyn cut her off, taking her hand from mine and crossing her arms underneath her chest, eyes narrowed despite the slight tremble I could see only by virtue of proximity. That wasn't good. If Uncle Lucas or Mom figured out we'd gone beyond the camp's boundaries, let alone this far out..._

 _"Please, tell me you didn't...!"_

 _"Would I be the one here now if I had?" Aubrey_ _bit the edge her lip with an incisor, looking almost insulted as she stared around the grove. "Not many know about this sacred place, you know. I told you about it because it was meant to be a sign of trust, respect, and sisterhood among fellow Huntresses."_

 _I may have cowered just a bit as her gaze fell on me, just like her mother's, and just as judgmental. A brief but telling shake of the head all she needed to dismiss me once more._

 _"Not so you could go entertain children - **small ones,** at that - with ' **pretty** ' sights." She spat the word like venom, shaking her head. "These dangers are not for one of his...his...!"_

 _She couldn't even complete the insult, and Robyn wasn't keen to let her make another attempt._

 _"You told me this area was repellent to the Soulless, didn't you?"_

 _I felt a hand take hold of my shoulder through the furs, gently but firmly. My other cousin winced minutely under a gaze so like Uncle Lucas', I was a bit surprised the other girl didn't bow and offer an apology._

 _"Joel's never been outside Rowan's Bastion, let alone this far within the forests. I thought it would make for a perfect introduction, at least..." I frowned at the pause, noticing her displeased look back at the fallen Elk. "...I thought it would be."_

 _"'...Perfect,' eh?... So did the beast fall by your hands, then?"_

 _T_ _he Safehold Huntress asked in a voice laden with renewed interest, moving swiftly to join us. She put herself next to me, I saw, opposite Robyn. Whether it was intentional or not, I couldn't quite be sure. Grandfather had been trying to teach me, unsuccessfully, to read the intentions of others but the thought of parsing apart another soul's motives felt... wrong._

 _"No, it was..."_

 _"Netelimuic...!? Ha! So the **runt** pulled it off?"_

 _Could she at least sound like she might've believed it, or that I could understand her? Which I did._

 _"O-of course not!"_ _I clenched my fists then, so tiny, at the matter-a-fact denial. Could she at least sound like she believed I could have!?_

 _Robyn didn't mean anything by it, of course, but did she have to phrase it like the idea was so impossible? Looking back down at the elk, though, the size of it even brought low as it was... My hands quivered just thinking about pitting myself against the living breathing genuine article, flexing in those itchy gloves._

 _"Ah, that's a shame. Almost went and got my hopes up."_

 _Again, the judging, like the adults back at Aegis, and at all those fancy parties, but worse. Aubrey was supposed to be **family,** and family didn't act like that. At least they weren't supposed to._

 _"Prize like this would've made for an impressive first kill. Something worthy of a Scion, worthy of the line of Akan and the Queen."_

 _A "Scion," just like she was, said in a manner that made it clear she wasn't convinced I warranted the title. Nothing new there._

 _Was she doing this on purpose? Robyn looked ready to intervene, but Aubrey continued on, more forcefully now._

 _"Far better than the rodents, at least."_

 _As if on cue, many of the small creatures watching us scurried away, the Huntress not even deigning to notice, focus fixed on the kill before her, planting her spear in the flowering ground, and kneeling down to get a closer look._

 _"I assume that was your plan? Get a weapon in his hands, teach him something useful. But look at him, soft and mewling before a corpse. He'd be too afraid to even manage..."_

 _" **I'm not afraid!** "_

 _I hadn't meant to speak up, and certainly not shout like I had, both girls' heads rounding on me in an instant. Robyn looked startled and worried, while Aubrey seemed... I'm not sure what she was, her visible eye narrowing, and her jaw twitched in what might've been a smile a fang-like incisor pulling at her lip._

 _I didn't care. I was just tired of being ignored, talked down, and treated as if I weren't even there._

 _The least my cousin could do was insult me to my face. At least then it wouldn't be like the whispers and mutters Dad told me so often to ignore._

 _"I-I'm not," I repeated, meeting her stare. Even knelt down as she was, she still seemed larger than I was in just about every conceivable fashion. "I-I want to be a Huntsman; a Warrior. I'm... I'm not scared of something like this. I'm no coward!"_

 _"Oh?"_

 _"Joel, I'm sure she didn't mean it like...?" Robyn started, but faltered when I looked at her, her hand jumping from my shoulder quickly to vanish under the folds of her cloak. There was shame. Shame I hadn't recognized at the time, foolish as I had been._

 _At least I wasn't being treated like glass anymore, and wouldn't be after that day._

 _A part of me would go on to regret that later._

 _"You said you thought Robyn was going to teach me something. Well... I wanna learn. Whatever it is, I wanna learn." I tried to stand as tall as I could, "resolute in my convictions," as Uncle Lucas would say._

 _Aubrey regarded the act for a long moment, sharing a knowing look with her friend before nodding to herself, smiling a mischievous smile that was all fang and no mercy._

 _"Hmm, you wish to learn, eh? Alright then, Cousin."_

 _Her long nailed hand snapped out faster than I could follow at the time or Robyn could react, snatching firm hold of my collar, and dragging me bodily off my feet to the forest floor with her, almost shoving me face first into the elk's blood-coated side._

 _Up that close, the heady stench of sweat, copper, and decay now assaulted my senses in earnest, almost overwhelming me then and there. Tears pricked at the corners of my vision, my stomach heaving, threatening to betray me with each breath. I tried to struggle, fierce as I could, but her grip was like iron, unyielding._

 _Childishly, I half expected Robyn to help me, to come to my aid like she always had before._

 _She didn't, merely standing sentinel, watching the treeline for signs of Grimm drawn by my terror and discomfort._

 _"First lesson. This is what death looks like. What death out and beyond your high walls looks like, at least. Remember it. Acknowledge it. Rail against it. And above all, **DO NOT** fear it!"_

 _With that said, the Daughter of Safehold released her grip almost casually, letting me fall back on my bottom, gasping for each blessedly floral-scented breath._

 _"You want to face the Soulless? To stand and defend Mankind? Then this is the reality, Joel Ambrose. '_ _Tido...' **Duty.**_ _"_

 _I blinked at the use of my name, the gentle if firm timbre her voice had taken when saying it as opposed to her usual gusto, both things I'd certainly not heard before. Always 'Boy,' 'Runt,' or something similar, and all said with the snarky bite that I'd come to associate with my rather direct relative._

 _The Huntress was staring at the elk, reaching out, and running a hand through the coarse fur, heedless of the blood, muck, and corruption that stained her fingertips unperturbed, as if this was all normal, though I supposed to her, this probably was._

 _"I... I..."_

 _"Now, what do you see?"_ _I fought to calm myself, remembering the meditations and mantras taught to all children to mask emotion, trying to answer her._ _"'What happened here?' You asked that, didn't you?" She must've heard us before using her Semblance, her gift, to approach as she had. That made sense. Even she had her limits, despite all boasts to the contrary. " **Well?** " Came the expectant question, with a bit of snarl for emphasis, spurring me on._

 _"Umm..." I didn't want to look, but I forced myself anyways. It was easier this time, I found, but not by much. "It... I-it died..." A snorting scoff, the one that swiftly put heat burning through my cheeks again. "I-it was killed! By the Soulless, I think, for... for..."_

 _"Territory, most likely. More than one monster did this." I blanched as her fingers vanished inside one of the wounds, examining the size, depth, and shape of the gouging injuries with a practiced air or one born to the task. "Second lesson. The servants of the Dark Goddess are selfish, petty things, and the land fights back against their foul presence as much as we ourselves do. There's a story here.. Haha, and a fine one at that, I think." She finished with a barking laugh that split the air and made me wince._

 _"It... It does?"_

 _"Of course! Look at the signs. Think. Use the mind you were gifted with." My wilder cousin withdrew her hand from the body, motioning about us, looking exasperated that I couldn't see it. The expression only deepened when Robyn made a stifled sound of realization. "There are no other tracks besides those leading to the forest. No others signs to indicate those_ _that did this." She pointed to the subtle depressions in the dirt and plant life surrounding the creature, leading away from the Grove, the snapped antlers. My eyes followed her every indication. "And these... S_ _oulless V_ _emdr leave no trophies, nor signs of their passing, as rightly they shouldn't. These, however, were broken off at an angle, the beast wrenching them free of muscle and bone that left no trace." I chose to trust her judgement then, but I could see now she had a point. "It would've been left where it had fallen, torn apart if its enemies had bested it. Instead, it made its way here from the battleground in victory, with its foes slain or driven off, back to its home."_

 _"So... it won," I whispered, leaning closer to the elk despite the smell, despite my misgivings. It felt almost... disrespectful, not to acknowledge it, Aubrey nodding along approvingly, at least until I spoke next, edging away. "It won... but it still died in the end. That's... That's so sad."_

 _"'Acknowledge the fall, but mourn not the victor.'"_

 _"Huh?"_

 _Again, a hand at my shoulder. Not Robyn's gentle urging, but fierce command, rooting me in place._

 _"Don't be sad. Look at it. This was a warrior who faced the creatures of Darkness and fell boldly, defending its home. Surrounded at the end by what it cherished, and its killers slain. The kind of death all defenders of the Queen's_ _Frontier should aspire to..." A sidelong disapproving glance from Robyn made Aubrey spit on the ground beside her, beaming at the passion she put into the words. The same passion Safehold put into everything they did, it seemed, "...Well, those born to the Clans should, anyway. And look, even in death, it acts to nourish and grow what's left behind."_

 _She was right. Now that I looked, I could make out the renewed growth surrounding the corpse, having missed it in the face of the obvious. "It couldn't have known..."_

 _"Perhaps. Perhaps not._ _Third lesson. By the will of the Queen, 'If one is to fall, let it at least have a purpose and meaning for those who come after. And even in the face of defeat, never...'"_

 _"'Give up,'" I said, not really sure why I'd said it. Aubrey seemed shocked, too, and Robyn certainly was. A guilty, worried look crossed her face, though I hadn't cared at the time, too focused on trying to learn, trying to be better... "Is... Is that right?"_

 _"...Hmph. Close enough, Cousin." She cracked a toothy grin that made my face lighten in pride. "Close enough."_

 _My cousin then rose and held out a clenched fist towards me. I'd seen the gesture back in camp, but had never had it offered to me. I did what I thought was right, and tried to copy what they did, clapping my own fist painfully against hers before bringing it sharply to my chest, hard enough that I knocked the wind out of myself, Aubrey laughing all the while as she repeated the motion with far more poise, even as she applied more force than I could ever hope to match at the time._

 _The world... The **dream** shifted then. The hidden grove, my cousins, the elk, all of it splitting and shattering, reforming until it was something else. Something **more.**_

 _A dark world more terrible, more grim..._

 _Aubrey's final words echoed in the void, definition returning with the force of a hammer blow to my eyes. My burning, tear-filled eyes. "Close enough. Perhaps maybe there..."_

* * *

 _"...t-there was a reason in this? Wasn't there?" m_ _y voice wavered, even as the pleas spilled from my lips._

 _And how could it not? Choked by the fetid air of the waste tunnel, and by disbelief. Disbelief at the abused body cradled in my friend's arms. Eyes the disparate colors of gold and onyx stared blankly upwards, their previous luster forever extinguished._

 _"There... There **has** to be!"_

 _"Kara..." A small voice spoke my name between muffled sobs, unable to answer me. The one who bore it too young._

 _Features mirror to my own were hidden under more cuts and bruises than I cared to count. So many that it had taken what ragged locks remained of her hair, gold shot through with streaks of darkest ebony, to know it had truly been her the other sump rats had spoken of. A r_ _are trait amidst those that worked the silver mines, prized in certain circles... Why Mother had taken such pains to darken it before she..._

 _It didn't matter. The rest was gone now, just like her. Like them both. No doubt in the possession of some twisted Overseer, if not one of the Chosen themselves._

 _Remnants of her, my twin, my other half... Now some trophy, or offering to Her favor. Just the thought of it..._

 _"V-Vespa... W- **why?** "_

 _The sobs echoed in the wide confines of the cavern, others in ragged clothing rooting through the debris, looking our way, disregarding us when they saw we weren't worth the effort or danger of confronting. Mere annoyances, really. Nothing to concern themselves with, when treasures from the fortress above might be hidden within the detritus._

 _It should've been me... The Overseers had taken notice of our songs, and had come seeking the source to please their Masters, and they in turn their Mistress._

 _She'd smiled as the black armored shapes, their thick, muscled arms displaying the veined eye tattoos of their Lady's sight, faces concealed by expressionless bone masks that showed the same, had pulled her from the small chamber we all shared despite the protests of the others, safe in the knowledge that I'd hidden myself away behind the makeshift walls of our cell._ _E_ _scorted, as if it were necessary, by one of the towering, bone-clad, Soulless lupine creatures that sometimes stalked the darkest depths, hostile to all but those that held the Goddess' favor._

 _Those trying to assuage my worries were so adamant she'd be alright, a mere servant in the lower halls of the fortress. Perhaps something pretty for the Chosen to fawn over for a time. A novelty._

 _Life was good up there, we'd heard. As long as you did as you were told, and didn't step out of line._

 _No work gangs thrown together to feed the ever growing demands of the Masters. No Silver Lung rotting away one's body slowly while toil tore muscle and shattered bone. Basic comforts that a soul didn't have to steal, or take from another on the edge of a sharpened shard of stone._

 _The chance to act like a person, not an animal, even if it was little more than a life as property._

 _We'd see the Overseers gauging the meat of the mines below. The well-formed, the talented... All would vanish up above, rarely ever seen again. And when they were..._

 _"Why!?... Why would they!?"_

 _Hot wetness was falling in earnest now, carving dirty furrows in the soot and dirt, dripping into the dark hair of the small boy, the youngest of our number, fragile little Kay. Nothing but skin and bones, who himself was weeping and shivering into the tattered rags of my woven shirt._

 _His sister was by far the most composed of all of us, silent as stone, staring down at the broken girl with wide, blue eyes through ebon curls, still as she was. Her soot-stained face was a mask of something I'd seen mere glimpses of, but never like this. Anger, shame, defiance..._

 _"All they'd wanted was a song... Just a silly song... She wouldn't have made trouble; she wouldn't! We were good. Vespa knew how to be good for them!... So **why!?** "_

 _"Because they could, Kara. Why else?" Viridis growled through gritted teeth, green eyes flashing through the murky curtains of hair hanging haphazardly about the boy's thin, pale face made all the paler by a life spent in the dark, our small group's leader still bearing its own set of wounds and bloodstains, his movements favored and sluggish._

 _He'd been one of those to fight against my sister being taken. And fight he had, harder than anyone else, even if in the end it had come to naught._

 _Nothing could stand against the Goddess' Soulless servants, even if he had made their mortal peons bleed in the attempt. Such monsters were beyond even the largest of the men, those poor souls confined to the lowest depths of the mines, forced to labor under the harshest conditions._

 _For children barely reaching the cusp of growth to best one, it was almost laughable...if it weren't so painful._

 _"We serve the will of the Overseers, who in turn serve the Chosen above, who in turn serve the Her Lords, who in turn serve the Goddess over all."_

 _An old adage, one known by all who grew up in the darkness. An explanation for the state of things._ _On Viridis' lips, it was more a curse, his fists clenched tight, and shaking at the sight of the girl he'd failed. His friend._

 _"We're nothing to them. Nothing but slaves turning the wheel! It's not...It's **not right!** How can people not stand tall and...!?" He bit his lip so hard it bled, what words he would've uttered lost in a choked growl._

 _"...Well, maybe they're...!"_

 _"They're what!? Scared? If not Vespa, then it would've been someone else. We're the rats no one cares about, and no one will, not until we give hurt them back!"_

 _Fear, That was how those that served the Goddess ruled, as they had since their Lady had come to this land. As they would continue to rule for time everlasting. The weapons, the coveted power of the Soul. Even those monstrous servants. All of it was merely secondary, tools to feed the terror and dread._

 _"We can't fight them. You tried, remember?" I looked at the cuts and bruises, biting back the fury. It hadn't been his fault, nor had it been the fault of those who'd stood by._

 _We were all afraid. And as long as that held, there could be no challenge, the mere thought alone unthinkable. Her power and authority could not be denied..._

 _"...It's just the way things work, like the Elders said."_

 _"Well, maybe it shouldn't be!"_

 _Dangerous words, but the eldest of us had never been one to shy away from speaking his mind, even when it got him into trouble. It was one of the things I admired about Viridis. That quality **Vespa** had admired about him, always. It was why she'd trusted in him to protect..._

 _A renewed sob wracked through me as I brought my arms up, pulling little Kay closer to me, seeking my own comfort in the loss by perhaps helping him, at least until I felt the shaking subside. And then... Then I began to hum a wordless tune. No words... It didn't feel right without her there._

 _Building slowly yet steadily, the song rose in pitch, until it filled the cavern, and enthralled all in its sway, carried further and further by drafts of unseen eddies air rippling through the caverns as if in response._ _Soon enough, the scents of decay and waste began to fade, only for the melody to fill their place, continuing on where the one that had once shared in this gift could not._

 _Kay had fallen silent, his tiny grip still strong, clinging to me tightly. Viridis, however, merely bowed his head and rubbed at his eyes, shaking not with sadness, but anger. Anger at his failure. Anger at the loss. Anger at everything. Always so angry now...it would break him, one day._

 _I'm not sure what I meant the lullaby to be, truth be told, emotions warring beneath the surface. The happiness of her memory battling with the sadness of her loss. The pain felt in her final hours with the knowledge that not all was lost... A song of hope, something to hold onto in the dark..._

 _But it wasn't dark... Not anymore. Something new had driven it away. Something... incredible._

 _"No... It isn't right!"_

 _A new voice, shaking, but possessive of something raw and powerful, filled the cavern. Accompanied by a new light purer and more alive than anything I'd ever seen before in this world of winding, low-ceiling caverns and constricting networks of mine shafts._

 _Shining brighter even than the rare torches the Overseers carried, or those ensconced in the walls of the higher floors. So much so, that it almost hurt my eyes to look directly at the dancing arcs of a dozen shades I'd never witnessed, all radiating outwards._

 _Radiating from Rowan herself, as the young woman got slowly to her feet, shoulders shaking from the effort of containing the fury._

 _That power, coursing seemingly underneath her very skin, leaping between twitching fingers, broiling like the great storms spoken of in stories... Her eyes, they were literally burning with a fiery crimson energy shot through with actinic fury, possessive of a life all their own that banished the shadows closest to us._

 ** _'Beautiful...'_**

 _"This **isn't** right!" the young woman reaffirmed_ _, glancing at each of us in turn before finally down at Vespa, the first signs of pain flickering across features made hard by scarcity. "S-she... She was important to us! Vespa mattered to us! They had no right to do with her as they pleased! To treat her like some.. **thing**!" Her fists clenched shakily, light leaping around her limbs but impossibly avoiding the unmoving figure at her feet, unwilling to disturb her further. "No, she was more than that! She was Vespa! She wasn't property! We're not property! Her life had meaning. Our lives have meaning! She mattered... We_

 _"...R-Rowan, what... How are you...?" I breathed suddenly, quite unable to speak._

 _My friend blinked once, twice, noticing how we'd all backed away, and finally stared down at her hands, air still crackling with an incessent hum that I could practically taste on my lips. Her eyes wide, as if she'd only just noticed herself. So many emotions in that short instant._

 _Worry warred with Fear. Fear warred with Doubt. And Doubt warred with a startling new Fascination._

 _Others were looking on as well, those sump rats that had been minding their own business now enraptured with the sight before them, either in awe, terror, or both. Kay no longer clung to me, but instead gazing worriedly at his elder sibling._

 _And Viridis..._

 _"...The power of the Soul," He whispered, barely audible over the crackling thrum filling the cavern like a pulsing heart, setting my teeth chattering. "Just like the stories said... The strength of spirit... Rowan, you...You are a Soul Wielder."_

 _We all gaped at his words. Even Rowan herself as the energy finally faded, replaced by a glow that suffused her body... An Aura of sorts that radiated nothing but warmth and strength._

 _It was impossible... or it should have been. Nothing but a childish fairy tale. Stories of mighty warriors able to fight the Soulless beasts the Goddess called her servants. Of distant kingdoms ruled by progress, and not fear._

 _Such tales were the type that long outlasted those who shared them, crushed under the heels of the Chosen and their servants long before hope could spread. Any and all who claimed otherwise dragged aside, along with those they held dear._

 _But here it was in truth... in the flesh. **Real,** before my very eyes._

 _And where one stood, they could give birth to others. That was whispered as well._

 _A spark that starts the flame that burns away the darkness..._

 _"With this...with you... We might just be able to do it."_

 _Viridis stood up straighter, reaching out a hand to lay across Rowan's shoulder, the pair sharing a look between themselves I couldn't quite discern. It wasn't quite admiration, nor was it solidarity, but more...determination._

 _"With you, we can hurt them... With you, we can fight back!"_

* * *

" **Hah**!"

My eyes blinked open with a sudden start, no longer staring at the birth of rebellion, or the winding tunnels of the mines, but at the moonlit interior of a familiar sleeping space.

I'd been dozing off, leaning back against the nondescript wall beneath a rattling window, with nothing but the creak of wood and the stady beat of the snowstorm outside to lull me.

Safe in a cozy little room, nestled within an out of the way haven, in a quiet out of the way settlement, in the farthest reaches of one of those same Kingdoms that had, only minutes before, been nothing more than stories told in whispers around... around...

My head ached horribly, as if a spike had been driven between my eyes and twisted, forcing out a hiss and a muffled curse that drove me forward onto my knees when I tried to rise... only to find that my hand was tightly clenching the handle of a weapon. _My_ weapon, _Storm Song._

A shimmering crystal inset within the casing pulsed in time with my racing heart, cerulean veins leaping across its surface in fits and spurts, and daresay a flash of gold that I'd not seen previously.

Pale fingers sparked dimly in sympathetic response much the same as the young woman in the dream, if far weaker, for that was what it had been, of course.

It had to have been just that: a dream. The alternative was ludicrous... It wasn't even worth... I hadn't just seen...

 _'No, I **couldn't** have just seen, it's not possible...' _Kara, the first companion of Rowan, her most loyal...and I'd been...no, it couldn't be.

At least that as what I told myself until I leapt to my feet. weapon brought to bear at the sudden motion of someone... Of Elizabeth.

Liz, tossing and turning on the bedspread, groaning and whispering something under her breath. Pleas and whimpers lost in dreams, or nightmares more like.

Rarer now than they had been, for both of us. A good sign, or so she'd said jokingly.

It still didn't mean they weren't just as bad as before when they did hit. Worse, even...

She hated knowing I'd noticed, just as I'd disliked waking up to her knelt over me, always with that same somber look of worry and understanding, even though by all rights she shouldn't be up and moving with her injuries.

We didn't enjoy feeling like a burden on the other, neither of us willing to admit it, or leave the other to suffer alone.

Even so, I was still a bit surprised when I found myself sitting on the edge of the bed, watching Liz's furrowed brow, trying not to imagine what exactly it was she was seeing. I had a decent idea.

She'd shared once, during one of the bad nights. Even now, years later, it still made my stomach turn, and gave me the overwhelming urge to break something in half. Something wearing a mask...

But not tonight... No, tonight was different.

I hummed then, quite unsure why at first, but it felt... _right,_ despite tears for a pain I could barely even recall falling down my cheeks. A wordless tune that I had never heard before... Not truly with my own ears, at least. A sound that filled the room, uplifting the spirit, chasing away the darkness...

"...J-Joel?"

So lost in it was I that I wasn't even aware Liz had begun to stir, green eyes gazing blearily up at me with a small mewl of confusion that left me blinking, the magic of the moment broken. "When... When did you learn to sing like...!? Wait, why are you crying? Joel!?"

I was already moving, ignorant of her confusion as I stumbled into the small bathroom, slumping over the sink, fingers digging into the porcelain so hard, it cracked.

Cold water splashed against my face again and again, clearing my vision until I looked up in the mirror... and paused.

A hand, the one not still clutching tightly to _Storm Song's_ casing, reached up to pull sodden bangs from my eyes, my focus entirely on my reflection.

For a moment, less than a heartbeat, really... I hadn't been sure I recognized the person standing there.

* * *

\- END

* * *

 **-OC Voice Cast Introduced this Chapter-**

Shean Read - Rhys Darby

Aubrey "Twin-Fang" of Safehold - Ashly Burch

Kara - Jo Wyatt

Young Viridis - Nico Lennon

Rowan - Alix Wilton Reagan

* * *

 **(-Primer-)**

 _ **Netelimuic -** Ridiculous_

 _ **Tido** \- Duty_

 _ **Vemdr** \- Filth_

* * *

 _ **A/N: Another update, another chapter, and man what a chapter it was for quite a few reasons. Hey, Reika's doing...alright? Captured but alright, and apparently now gainfully employed. Mooring, they do things a bit differently than the other societies in the Frontier, act differently too.**_

 _ **And a bit of a dream segment for Joel, bit of a new thing and I'd love input and comments, things people liked or didn't like. First we had a little look in on Joel's childhood, some family bonding with his Safehold-born cousin on his Father's side of things. Delphine, the crazy barbarian lady with two giant dogs, this is her kid. Not a lot of resemblance at least on the surface.**_

 _ **And then that dream bled into something older, and definitely different. Yeah, hoping that was entertaining cause it definitely isn't going to be the last. Much to Joel's dismay. Something else for our Huntsman to be pissed at his Grandfather for.**_

 _ **As things go I'm going to try and keep this current schedule consistent, chapter length may vary but this is probably the running average right now. As always I'd love to hear feedback and thoughts going forward. - Mojo**_

* * *

(Next Chapter: A response to trouble, and discontent at inaction)


	14. Chapter 14

_**Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_

* * *

UNDER PRESSURE

* * *

 _ **-Benjamin Carson-**_

"How?... _How_ could this have happened?"

General James Ironwood raised the question personally from his place at the head of the table, giving a firm voice to the thoughts of just about every uniformed individual seated before him in the dimly lit briefing room.

Over a dozen supremely gifted men and women, members of the elite Atlas Special Operatives Unit, all staring with varying amounts of worry and disbelief at the pictures displayed across the holographic overlay.

Images of battle, an Atlesian-controlled prison cracked open like an egg.

The formidable task force set to guard it was slaughtered, with what survivors there no doubt were likely lost to either the cold or the Grimm by now. The perpetrators behind the attack were obvious, having left no doubts as to their identity. Especially with the banners hung from the matte grey walls of the taken complex, showing the spiked moon sigil of Bastion, and below it a crimson hand print that was utterly unmistakable.

" _How!?_ " our Commander-in-Chief repeated to his Specialists more forcefully this time, the edge of concern clear in his somber timbre. A giant of a man in his own right, made to seem even bigger as he presided over this meeting on his feet, towering above us.

Still, even he seemed cowed by the images taken by our scouting drones. Images of fields of crimson-marked snow, the entire prison a charnel house.

"An entire task force, supported by a score of AK-200 units and a Paladin Assault Platform, overcome by dissidents from a rebellious fringe settlement... armed with _bows_." His fist clenched, but the words themselves were cool, mechanical, and all the more terrifying for it. "A Trapper missing, and for all we know back in the wild once more... _How_ is that possible?"

Silence dominated the length of the conference room for several long moments, save for the creaking of chairs and the rustle of starched clothing as some shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

Most of the occupants looked to one another, as if trying to vote amongst themselves who would dare speak up and break the silence. Meanwhile, Winter and I sat side by side quietly towards the end, and out of the way. In her case, she was observing the room. I was trying to read the room in mine.

At any other time, the sight of a room full of Atlas' best gawking and gaping about like fish out of water might've been amusing, but some of those photos had gone a long way towards putting down my sense of humor, and my appetite.

 _'If I didn't know any better, I'd have put it down to Grimm...'_ Bodies in pieces, savaged beyond recognition...

As expected, the General wasn't one to be left waiting. A gloved finger tapping the steel-grey surface of the table in a marching tempo, eerily reminiscent of my own habit. That was a comforting thought right there. Far less so when he suddenly slammed it down, leaving a nice fine dent in the tabletop

" _Well!? Anyone!?_ Speak freely!"

"We've clearly underestimated the scope of the Frontier's incursions into our territory, and their ability to maneuver within it," Winter spoke up above the half-hearted murmurs and opinions, standing up straight as a board, chest puffed out, and hands clasped tightly behind her back in perfect form, finding her voice as so many around her tried and failed to do so. She was not one to be cowed as cold blue eyes fell upon her. "Our projections stated that the severity of our environment would likely serve to delay any designs they might have sought to put into place," she said in the clipped cadence I'd come to expect as her default. "...It appears we were sorely mistaken, sir."

" _Obviously,_ " one of the other Specialist's grumbled. He was a young man with a pinched face, and the look of someone attempting to swallow something dreadfully sour. "Our scouts placed the closest concentrated masses of Frontiersmen positions _leagues_ from this site. How a bunch of backwards savages managed to travel overland so quickly in these conditions, let alone face such resistance, is simply...!"

" _Hard fact._ "

The man's eyes narrowed sharply as they came to rest on me, slumped back in my seat, arms crossed over my chest. Some of the others looked around, too, curious at the youngest of their number finally speaking up. Only Winter seemed unperturbed by the interruption.

"Well, look at the pictures. No point in denyin' it now. Pretty clear that the 'savages' wanted to send us a message." I looked around at the room, scanning faces just like the older Schnee had advised, gauging reactions. None of them looked very favorable, but it had to be said. "Ain't exactly bein' subtle about it either, are they?"

Stories of menacing foreign soldiers roaming the snowy hills and ice-clad forests around the outer border settlements, not to mention their raids on supply chains. Apparently, it had even escalated to full blown attacks on armed patrols, if the few weary survivors our boys had picked up were to be believed. Men half frozen and spouting stories of Trappers and the Red Hand ravaging their friends with excruciating detail to anyone who would listen, almost as if set to the task, unable to help themselves.

So varied were the accounts I'd read over - so daring beyond what even _I_ expected of those maniacs - that I almost dismissed them as delusions out of hand, if it weren't for the descriptions offered. Laughing as they fought, dismissive of the risks, refusing to die...

"And what sort of message is _that,_ exactly? Specialist Carson?" Sourpuss asked snidely, leaning forward to glare daggers at me, looking like some up-jumped kid had just strode into a place he clearly felt they did not belong. Shame for him, we technically held the same rank, though I think I might've actually won out in commendations.

Bit sad, really...

I shrugged, careful not to seem as exasperated as I felt by the looks I was receiving, projecting the same cool indifference Winter seemed to exude by virtue of her very presence. That helped, giving me something to focus on rather than the headache building steadily behind my temples.

"Kinda obvious, ain't it?"

I motioned a metallic finger towards the flashing slideshow of slaughter playing on repeat, displaying grisly image after grisly image. Something I was surprised to see that a lot of the Specialist's seated weren't prepared for. Too much time making the tin men deal with their messy problems, no doubt.

"They're sayin' 'We did this.' 'We did this despite the obstacles you put against us; despite the costs.' 'We did this, and y'all couldn't do a damn thing to stop us.' Typical Trapper mentality written all over it. It's boastin'."

"Well, I suppose with that _traitor friend_ of yours and those criminals you associate with, you'd be the one to ask, wouldn't you? Our little expert," he shot back snidely.

Ironwood looked ready to step in, to reprimand, but I beat him to the punch, smirking broadly at the insinuation. "Oh? So I'm _useful,_ then?"

 _'Unlike you, ' **friend.** ''_

"Thank you. Good to know my contributions are appreciated. A few months of livin' in the same room and servin' alongside with a Trapper tends to smarten one up as to how they do things. How they think, what motivates 'em. Merely statin' what I see, just like my commanding officer asked."

I somehow managed to turn the comment, straight-faced, and voice laden with an icy calm, though I did try to dial it back a bit at a warning glare from Winter.

It was pretty difficult to resist, considering the front row seat to What's-His-Name's face somehow seeming to get even tighter. Pretty damned funny, if I had to say so myself, even if deep down I wanted to test the new arm's kung-fu grip out on his scrawny neck.

Instead, I just tapped my temples with a metal digit and a subtle whir of servos. "Joel Ambrose, that, uh, 'traitor,' as ya like to call him? He saved my life. Practically dragged me halfway across a Grimm-infested wasteland for hours on end. This is after fallin' off the same cliff I did, by the way." That certainly got them all tittering away, Sourpuss squirming in his seat, looking nice and uncomfortable. Even Ironwood looked a bit surprised, and I knew a fact he'd read every inch of our report. "Trappers - hell, even the Frontiersmen - _don't_ give up. And if the others like him are even _half_ as determined, we're in for it. But hey, y'all can see that now." I gestured to the screens.

"A-and what's that supposed to...!?"

"It's s'posed to be provin' a point. To Atlas, and to every other Kingdom that's caught wind of this. And they have, or soon will, anyway. The danger's real. Tough to keep somethin' like this quiet, though I take it the efforts have at least been made, sir?"

That question was directed straight at Ironwood, the man nodding, ignoring the distinct bare-bones protocol to a point.

There was time and place for it, but in the face of something this?... Yeah. Not the time. Though going by the stunned looks on some faces, clearly there were those that didn't exactly agree.

"Unsuccessfully. I'm not sure how they managed it, but images like these, and worse besides, are spreading faster than we can contain them." A map of Atlas popped up, mercifully obscuring the previous reel, though the contents wasn't much more settling than the first. "Already, we have reports of Grimm incursions increasing in frequency along the border settlements of Mantle. Nothing too serious yet, for which we can all count our blessings. But citizens are taking notice of it all the same. Fear _is_ spreading."

 _'Well, of course it is. I'm shiverin' in my damn boots, and look where I'm sittin'...'_

Progress quelling the "unrest" - a name the General was encouraging us all to use when referring to those forces spilling forth from the Frontier, and spreading in small but determined groups - had been going... poorly, to say the least. And they had only seemed to have worsened in my time away whilst dealing with the White Fang.

Initial reports had been acted upon quickly enough, a task force of airships and troops assembled to show the "dissidents" in the Frontier what happens when you fall in step with a madman like Lucas Violette and criminals like the Red Hand.

Led by Dorian Altrosa, a Specialist I'd met during my time with AMBR, and a man who had more than a little vendetta against the Hand, they'd set off for the mysterious expanse of Rowan's Frontier with all the fanfare of a Kingdom trying to ignore what happened to their southern neighbor. Even with the CCT out of commission, everyone had been expecting a triumphant return in short order, and a crisis avoided.

I'd had my doubts, of course, all casually swept aside by Ironwood. "This was necessary," he'd said. Overwhelming force, and an overwhelming victory that would help the world forget what had happened in Vale.

Instead, the ships never came back, painfully considered lost with all hands. And now we had Trappers and pissed off Frontiersmen at the gates to the Kingdom itself.

"Which is why, after discussing it with Specialist Schnee, I propose we release certain aspects of this incident to the public." Ironwood held up a gloved hand to forestall the inevitable backlash, glancing towards Winter and I in particular. Not too surprising, seeing as she'd been the one to suggest the idea, with a little side input on my part. "Carefully controlled, of course, but if we can't hide the nature of this attack, we can attempt to influence the perception of it at the very least. We can't let the dissidents disrupt what order we've managed to salvage in the wake of Vale."

"I'm more concerned with how our enemies knew where to strike to begin with." Winter keyed in a few notes on the map, marking out the rather remote nature of the prison itself. "This facility was deemed classified at the highest levels." She motioned a hand back to the pictures at everyone's disposal, though few bothered to look for more than a few seconds. "This attack clearly shows a level of access to information that should have been impossible for those of the Frontier to obtain, yet they clearly have. Security measures should be reviewed. Patrols, as well as border outposts, reinforced. Not to mention..."

"We should move to counter, quick as we can manage," I cut in, wincing somewhat as her diminishing stare that could've cut ice - the one that made her sister's feel like a warm summer's breeze by comparison - fell to me.

I weathered it well enough, though. Better than most... I hoped. I gulped in a fresh breath of cool air before continuing, very much aware of the General's stern eyes on me. A part of me knew I'd screwed up, cursing my big mouth for not the first time.

"I... I mean... C-continue, Specialist Schnee," I clammed up, sitting up straighter, and doing my best to avoid breaking out in a cold sweat at the pressure the woman beside me let off. "Apologies. I, uh... spoke outta turn."

"Indeed. I expected better," the General spoke up, no longer impressed, more... intrigued, stony. If anything, that was scarier. "Well, go on. If you've something pressing to say, Specialist Carson, then do so if it's so important. Unless, of course..." He acknowledged Winter with a curt nod, the woman's face set like marble, or ice, "...Specialist Schnee raises any objections?"

"None at all, sir. I've already detailed my own suggestions in the report I submitted earlier." That went a small ways to restoring hope, only to have it dashed a few moments later. I should've known. Her voice was heavy as lead. "And General, rest assured Specialist Carson and I will be having a very _candid_ discussion in regards to the proper etiquette given his position. It seems despite these last months and a few successes, the lessons haven't quite _stuck_ as they should have. I will be certain to educate him properly this time."

"I hope so." He nodded along, suddenly looking at me in a way that made me feel quite small, "So, Ben. You propose we move to counter the Frontier's movements? Act quickly?" From the way he said it, it was clear he was drawing parallels to this moment right here.

"What I meant to say, sir..." I took a deep breath, tacking on that honorific, seeing as it felt appropriate. It didn't seem to help. "Well... We can't just sit on our hands and knees. If we _really_ want to reassure people, we need a win. Moreover, we can't let ourselves get distracted. Not when the Frontier might not be the only problem on our hands."

Silence met that, none willing to speak, so I took advantage, speaking directly to Ironwood now, imploringly so despite my misgivings.

"If we reach out to the other Kingdoms, if we _really_ band together..."

* * *

"...and do _nothin', squat,_ just like we've _been_ doin'...!" I growled with undisguised irritation, breathing in deep as the cool, climate-controlled air of the lab set goosebumps across my bared chest. "'Cause that's been workin' out _great_ so far, hasn't it!? Swear to the gods, make me a damned Specialist, and expect me to save a lost cause? Go for it! Take out some White Fang we can't catch? No prob! Get some insight on the Frontier menace? Count on me! But when it comes to actually _listenin'_ to what I gotta say...!"

"Which may stem from a distinct lack of popularity, I imagine," the one Frontiersmen in the room deigned to speak up, sounding _bored,_ of all things. "And the verbal lashing afterward. Really, you interrupted _Winter Schnee?_ What were you expecting?"

"Hmm, what's that?" I perked up at the sudden comment, and tore my attention away from the whirring web work of cables and circuitry pulsing along the ceiling, the ever-present hum of active screens, and the hissing of rheumatics and pistons working. "I can't hear ya too well. Ice Queen all but thawed my ear off."

"Really? Was that all?" He arched an eyebrow, tapping away at wall-mounted Scroll. "Allison did mention it was quite loud."

"Funny. Real funny."

"I do try, on occasion."

That had been embarrassing, not to mention terrifying. My Specialist mentor had been inclined to support my desire to attend the meeting, proud I was taking some initiative, and had agreed that action must be taken to maintain order.

Of course, she was... _less_ enthusiastic about my outburst. It was unplanned and overeager, especially in front of the others, and so _boldly_ stated. It was an error on my part. And my errors reflected badly on her after all, as the one responsible for me.

Even more unforgivable, they reflected poorly on the General, himself, seeing as he was the one to appoint me in the first place, special circumstances not withstanding. Circumstances the others weren't privy to. Thus, I had to be, as she had so distinctly put it, " _beyond reproach_ " in all things.

She'd made it quite clear such an outburst would not be happening again, and that I should consider myself thoroughly grounded for the foreseeable future, not to mention count myself fortunate for the General's leniency. As for her, " _thin ice_ "seemed a bit too kind to describe my standing.

After an extended sullen silence had fallen between myself and my fellow cyborg, curiosity won out, and I turned whilst on the examination table to watch as Professor Jacob Ambrose wheeled his seat into place, adjusting his glasses before moving in to study my arm.

A practiced gaze picked the prosthetic limb apart before he'd even laid a hand on it, fingers darting as if of their own accord across the surface of his Scroll's holographic screen with surprising dexterity, given his bulky size, making notes and observations.

Tiny heads-up displays flashed across his eye lenses, giving his eyes an almost crimson sheen to them.

"You say somethin', Specs?"

"Yes, I did. And I've told you repeatedly not to call me... Hmm?" He leaned closer, angling the sharp overhead light into blinding position, and plucking a small needle tool from a compartment set in the temple of his eye wear, whereupon he just started poking and prodding without warning, despite my squirming and yelps. "Have you been any more active recently? More than usual?"

"Ach, ah... H-haven't you been watchin' the news? If y'all must know, me and the girlfriend promised we'd wait till..."

"Your _arm_ , Specialist Carson." He jabbed a nerve binding, sending a lance of chillingly cold discomfort rattling up the limp and through my shoulder, causing me to shudder despite myself on the slab. "Have you been placing any particular strain on your arm? Anything mission-related, or perhaps on one of your... 'outings?'"

I bit my lip to stifle the inevitable denial. Memories of drunken chanting in the background as I showed off my new arm's limits to a crowd of cheering onlookers...

 _'When was that, and why wasn't I wearing any pants...?'_

This kid was too smart for excuses, and if I had to be honest with someone, it may as well have been to my physician, right? Or the guy maintaining my physician, I guess was more accurate.

 _'Actually, come to think of it, I'm not quite sure what this Ambrose qualifies as...'_ 'Cause it might just be more than friends, going by how free and loose he was with that prong of his.

Some might've, and were, put off by the young man. Frankly, I felt a sort of kinship with the Professor, going beyond the connection I had with his wayward brother and our shared... disabilities. For example, we both knew what it was like to grow up to be smarter than the adults around us.

Thing is, I just possessed a mind too clever for my own good that could pick up on and remember everything I saw and heard, using it to my advantage. Ambrose could do that and _more._

 _That's_ when I started to get a bit uneasy.

"I, uh... s'pose I might've. Does it got anythin' to do why this thing keeps jammin' at times? And what were ya goin' on about before...!?"

"When it comes to this sort of work, a few hiccups are only to be expected," Jacob said, tapping a section of wiring that set my index digit twitching, noting the reaction with casual interest, as if it weren't affixed to a person. One who could directly feel all of what he was playing with, for that matter. "Especially when deciding to switch back from the simpler, and far more _advanced_ Auratic manipulation to the more primitive nerve coupling." He rapped my metal shoulder plate with his prong, looking irritable. "Dozens of hours spent mapping individual nerves correctly to make sure you don't end up punching yourself into unconsciousness rather than scratch your nose, of which there are several cases for citation, I'll have you know. Then the weeks of rehabilitation and light duty during recovery, let alone the increased difficulty of maintenance..."

"Which I say is well worth it." I shrugged. It was difficult to do it with my arm done up in restraints, but I managed well enough. "Better a bit of pain now than a dead weight when it really matters, and I'm runnin' on empty." It was easier to manage for one, despite the pain. Less time concentrating on keeping my Aura focused, and more time with my mind in the fight. Better for my side, worse for Cinder and her cronies. "Still, if y'all happened to have somethin' that might help...?" All of that was said whilst tacking on a doe-eyed stare, one straight from Ruby Rose herself.

One he didn't much appreciate, or I was just slipping. "I _could_ install a neuro-transmitter similar to the General's. Simplified, of course, and far less invasive. Even with this prototype, it would go a long ways towards..."

 _'Towards making me look even more like Ironwood Junior? Strip of metal sticking outta my head? Yeah... Nope, **not happening!** '_

"That piece you made especially for Blondie. Didn't need one for that, did it?"

My head dipped, leaning my head towards a screen displaying a rotating graphical image of a forearm, and pausing for a moment on another. A face, a kind inquisitive one I knew, with brilliantly green eyes... belonging to a person I'd last seen torn to quarters.

It vanished before I could do anything more than gape, lost in a quagmire of crimson code speak.

"Was that...? Nah, couldn't be..."

"Was that, what?" He furrowed his brow in confusion, along with something else. Something less obvious, but far more telling. Kid had a terrible poker face, just like his brother. "You were saying something about her arm?"

"R-right... Well, did it? Need one of those Neuro-whatsits?" I recovered easily enough from the shock, noting how the Professor spared a nervous glance at the screen, and then at me, with a minuscule shake of the head. Something he couldn't talk about, then. Lovely. "C'mon, that worked fine, right?"

"That was different. Your situation and hers, too, if you aren't aware. Regardless, the model I'm piecing together would operate far more efficiently if we simply...!" Evidently, my thoughts on the matter broke through to my face despite my efforts, the scientist shaking his head, and groaning in barely-held irritation. "Stubborn... Allison, compare today's scans regarding Specialist Carson's prosthetic with those we have on file from the installation. I believe I'm seeing a slight deviance in weight distribution for the primary connection joint, but I want to run a check on your end before continuing forward. Just to be sure," he said suddenly, ignoring me for the moment in stark favor of his work. "Mark any inconsistency, and forward it to my Scroll directly, standard format."

Kind of unnerving, actually. Like watching a machine at work rather than a man, rattling off a few calculations to the air, as if dictating to someone.

Which I supposed he was... Sorta.

 _"Acknowledged, Professor. Acquiring original schematics from existing archival data. Calculating... Compiling..."_ a distinctly feminine voice rang out with a decent attempt at emotion, emanating from the speakers set in the walls of the lab and from the watch adorning the kid's arm. Creepy, that. _"Indeed, you are correct, Professor. I am noting several minor structural imbalances present along the upper humeral structure. Forwarding now."_

 _"_ So, I just gotta ask, Specs. Did you program it to call ya that, or does it...?"

"Thank you, Al. Run further diagnostics, and await further instruction."

 _"Yes, Professor. Do recall you have a meeting with AK-200 Production Leads regarding firmware updates to..."_

"Look, what were you sayin' before?" I cut in before the two could start doing that weird back and forth. Him ordering it around was unsettling enough as it was without it talking like a person. "'Bout people and me?"

 _'Polendina at least had a face, and could fake conversation... Kinda.'_ Thoughts of the ghost I'd seen in the monitors a minute before, punctuated with memories far less kind.

I bit the inside of my cheek to stem the tide of mental photographs. The sight of a sweet, awkward young woman in pieces. The memory was steadily overlaid with those captures from the meeting, bodies in pieces... A lovely image for later, I was certain.

 _'Cinder, the White Fang, the Red Hand... They're gonna pay. Every last one of 'em...'_

"Oh, right. As I was saying, you are aware they all dislike you, yes?"

"' _They?_ ' Sorry, Ambrose. 'Fraid you'll have to be a bit more specific." I stuck on a grin, self-depreciating as always. This time I snapped my metal fingers, getting him to focus. "If ya haven't already noticed, a lotta people don't like me, even if I can't imagine why."

"One of Remnant's great mysteries, I'm certain." The younger man grimaced despite his own rare attempt jest, toeing over a wheeled tray laden in small tools and spare parts, struggling a little bit with his own artificial limb before managing to get it in arm's reach. "For your information, I was referring to the other Specialist Operatives." Carefully selecting a set of curved implements, the machinist set to work dismantling the protective housing, working down to the delicate circuitry beneath, each piece laid out in accordance with function, weight, and convenience. "You know, the _other_ Specialists? Even you can't be ignorant of the talk that's going around. 'The rumor mill never sleeps,' as they say."

 _'Who says that, exactly?'_

Eyes rolling, my head settled back against the table, doing my best to avoid to ignore the occasional icy feel of something caressing my nerve endings, and the inevitable spike of electrically-potent pain that sparked to life soon after. Kid should've been the one with the lightning Semblance.

Something told me he'd have been pretty creative, giving his older brother a run for his Lien.

"It might surprise ya, but I tend not to keep track of every little grievance or tall tale I get stuck with."

Only most of them, like that show host who'd made some witty crack about some snapped picture of Max and I taken during the Battle of Beacon. A still played up on the wall during a live broadcast of myself and the Faunus through a haze of smoke, lips locked with what was most certainly Rosie flying about in the background with that ridiculously overdone scythe of hers for scale.

From the sound of things, it'd been dredged up from an Atlas student. And while I was busy trying not to crush the arm of my chair under a metallic grip, our show runner hadn't been quiet. He'd said something about me "trading up" with the Schnee Heiress, a comment evidently meant to be a clever joke.

And I'd even laughed, too, after a fashion, especially when I heard his fancy show had gone down in flames, with his reputation in tatters. Man'd be lucky to find work again in Mantle Public Broadcast, or anywhere else for that matter, but at least he'd treasure the card I sent.

That had been a fun diversion, JADE having enjoyed the leg work. And no one ever asked about the photogenic young Specialist and his mysterious Faunus friend ever again.

"Really? Not even those stating that you're a traitor spying for the Frontier on behalf of my brother? Some brutal warmonger behind a cheeky smile, who's looking to chase shadows across the globe? Oh, or maybe that you wish to leverage yourself into position as General Ironwood's new favorite, and are willing to stab Winter Schnee in the back just to get ahead."

"'Specially those," I said, flesh and blood fingers going for the flask in my pant's pocket, throat feeling mighty dry, only to pause and see the young Frontiersmen had already removed and sequestered it beyond my reach. Kid was too smart for his own good. "Still, it's better that they hate me. Least that's expected. Makes 'em predictable."

"Hmm, I wager they'd love to hear that."

"Bet they would. You gonna tell 'em?"

I caught his eye dangerously... before the mood lifted, and the boy cracked a rare half smile. It was more a grimace that pulled at the burned flesh peeking up from his collared uniform rather than anything substantial or positive, but it was something.

"As if I care. My only concern is that they don't take the Black Queen's threat seriously, despite our efforts. Hmph, and why would they?" The scientist bit his lip, gently adjusting something in my shoulder that somehow felt numb, yet itched like mad all the same. "The brother and former teammate of a Trapper. The nephew of one of the most dangerous and disturbed minds on the face of Remnant, and the son of an infamous bandit boss. We're _obviously_ trustworthy, aren't we?"

"'The Bandit of Beacon' and the Brain behind Atlas? Yep! Ya damn well bet we are. Match made in heaven." A strangled sound that could've been a cough played out next to me, the failed attempt to hold back a chuckle. "But it doesn't matter much, does it? Not without Woody's support. Whatever happened to cyborgs stickin' together?"

"A Kingdom fell, and people died... That might've had something to do with it, I imagine."

A blunt reply, but honest. I couldn't fault him, despite the overwhelming urge to do just that. Besides, I had been the one to ask.

"Atlas is in a difficult position at the moment, as I'm sure you're aware. The largest army of all, and the least trusted as well. Vale... Beacon was a wake up call for everyone, and not just about the Grimm. That's what the General is forced to deal with."

"Great! So instead, we're too busy lookin' for the knife in our back, rather than the fist in our face or the boot in our gut. And in the meantime, Haven goes down in flames, and that Red Witch gets whatever it is she wants!... _Again!_ "

A few beats of uncomfortable silence met that traitorous statement, one that made me very glad of Allison and her paranoid creator's need for privacy in his workplace. The only sign the words touched the Professor at all was the slightest shudder in his broad frame, a subtle reach for his side, where one of the late Roman Torchwick's cronies had stuck him.

 _'Not that I can't relate...'_ My knee twinged angrily at the thought, the recollection of searing hot glass shattering within...

"So, then, you're _truly_ expecting Mistral to be the next target?" I was happy for the query; the distraction. All the more so that it came from someone I knew would understand, even if only a little. Someone who had _been there._ Who could understand the dangers, if in abstract.

 _'Wonder just how much he knows, sometimes. The Maidens, the people behind all this... What's goin' on in that head of yours, Lil' Ambrose?'_

"Makes the most sense, don't it?" My voice was matter-of-fact, bolstered by certainty and confidence in my deductions. A trait tempered by Winter Schnee, herself, along with my own brand of cynicism. "If she was plannin' to pull off another Beacon, Haven'd make the perfect target." I held my good hand up, counting off as I went. "Mistral's where the bulk of the White Fang's, or at least Adam Taurus', power's based from, least by what accounts I've gotten from my sources. They did _so well_ in Vale, after all. Can't see the bitch leavin' 'em outta the fray now."

Taurus... Funny how you can dislike another man so strongly, even if you've only ever seen them in a photo or a brief video capture. Of course, I might just be feeding off of Joel on that count, remembering what that bastard had done to Yang... Yeah, no "peaceful" negotiating for him from me, that was for damn sure.

Bullets or bust for him... if a certain former Trapper didn't get to him first.

"She's also infiltrated Haven Academy before. That's how she was able to get to Beacon. So she must have some knowledge of the school's inner workings. Enough not to get caught, anyway."

That had been the weird part; the fact that had given me pause. I didn't know this Leonardo Lionheart. Ironwood said he was a fine Huntsman, and a solid man by all accounts, if a little skittish. Ozpin had trusted him. So did Ironwood, as far as the man was willing to trust anyone.

"That's still not a whole lot to operate off of, let alone move an army on at a whim," Jacob replied, shaking his head and returning to his work, splitting his attention evenly between myself, the Scroll across his knee, and my now almost skeletal arm stripped down to its base components. "The General and the rest of the Council will want facts and strategic analysis, not conjecture and speculation."

"Fine. They want a tactical opinion? I'll give 'em one. What they've been payin' me for, after all."

I frowned, urging him to take this seriously, or at least cave and give me back my coping mechanism. One or the other.

"It's what I'd do, and what I bet Woody, along with anyone with half a brain and some sense for trouble and mayhem, would do in the same place." A bemused eyebrow raised, snark on the tip of his tongue, I could sense it. "There's a reason Anima's the dream locale for any up and comin' bandit, if the ones already there don't eat 'em alive first. It's so big, the defenses could barely handle stemmin' the Grimm drawn along the border before Vale, let alone crime or anyone sneakin' around. Y'all couldn't ask for a juicier target to hit, or a lovelier place to hide in, 'specially nowadays."

"...But if they're hiding there, why would they want to destroy and give up their own... well, haven, for lack of a better term?" he asked as he tilted up his glasses, eyes furrowed in thought.

"You're assumin' that they're main hideout's in Mistral."

"And you don't think it is?" he asked.

"I think they have a hideout there, just not the _main_ hideout," I clarified. "They're organized, Specs. Likely have a hole to hide in, but are smart enough not to lead us to their home. They can afford to burn a few bridges."

"I see... You know, it's been months since Beacon, yet I still find myself appalled at how callously they disregard things. How they jut throw away others... whether it's places or people..." he seethed, a dark glower overcoming his eyes.

I could only nod grimly. He knew just as much as I did what these people were capable of. He was there when Cinder all but threw Torchwick to the Grimm, almost literally, even though she'd used Alexander Capaneus to do the deed.

These people were so similar to the Grimm. No regard for the lives of others whatsoever...

"Whatever her reasons... I just know that if she means to knock out the Academies and weaken the Kingdoms, Haven's where I'd hit next... Call it a gut feeling."

"And I believe you, Specialist Carson... _Benjamin._ I trust your judgement... for the most part." A slight shot at the drink there. Acceptable.

Ambrose nodded, adjusting a few more of the small infinitesimal whirring mechanical miracles driving the limb before beginning the arduous task of reassembly. An effort well worth it, the constant ache that had been dogging the limb already receding to its usual dull pang.

"My brother did, after all. And for all his faults, and yours, I truly believe he was right to do so."

"Aww, thanks, Specs. I never..."

"Now you just have to convince the General and the rest of them." He undid the straps rigged along the prosthetic, and wheeled himself back to his main terminal, leaving me to gape at him. His energetic mind was already moving onto the next in the host of problems both the world and the demands of a Kingdom of Industry had to offer. "For what little it's worth, I wish you luck. I wouldn't want to be in your shoes."

 _'Damn it...'_

The gaps in the theory aside, my line of reasoning made sense. And what's more, we likely only had a limited window with which to stop it.

Who knows how long Cinder and her people could have been planning the fall of Vale? Months, years? To fool and evade the combined power of Remnant's Kingdoms, of Ozpin and the others working alongside him, had taken both finesse and careful secrecy. A dozen, if not a hundred pieces moving about the board exactly as she had desired in order to achieve her goal.

But the time for that had passed. Cinder Fall had a Maiden's power, regardless of what happened atop the CCT Tower with Red and that strange silver light. She had power, this " _magic,_ " and could use it to perform feats I still had trouble believing. And those same powers had killed my friend and shattered my team.

Powers that had been in their infancy then, and the gods themselves only knew how they'd have developed in the time since.

Would it take another Kingdom burning before someone got off their ass, and went on the offensive? This was the time to be proactive, not this reactive " _wait and see_ " garbage. Ironwood certainly wasn't budging a tick, phasing me out of just about everything to do with the Maidens since coming back to Atlas. Nothing about my role as a so-called "Warden," no news about the other Maidens, and whatever the hell it was they were up to whenever I'd thought to ask.

 _''Oh hey, Woody! Nice to see ya! How're those other dames with the world-endin' power gettin' along? Eh? Not my concern? Ah well. Thanks for the update!...' **NOT!** '_

I was just dancing along to whatever little tasks he set me on; a dog tracking scents that were months old, and, for all I knew, pointless.

But hey, what were some impossible odds in the face of good old fashioned optimism?

"'Fore I forget, Ambrose, remind me..."

He spared a glance over his shoulder as I leaned up, flexing the upgraded limb, finger my finger, joint by joint, feeling for the first time a sense of power and durability that had been sorely lacking in the Atlas-brand crap pieces they'd been shilling on me for weeks now. It was no Rosie Special, but it'd do for practice for the real deal.

Now I just had to do something about this damned knee. And of course...

"...just where we at on the new gun?"

* * *

 _ **-Maxine Argus-**_

" _Sooooo!_ "

I stomped down hard with the steel-shod heel of my boot, finally deigning to shatter the long stretch of awkward silence that had been hanging like a blade above our little march since first departing the rusted outer levels of The Pit, right along with the squirming Beowolf's neck.

It started dissolving mere moments later in an acrid cloud of dark matter that was swept roughly aside by another bigger brute likely looking to do the same to me, forcing me to weave deftly to the side in a squelch of flinging mud and scum.

And what a big ugly bastard he was, almost twice my size of heaving, shaggy, furred muscle and slavering jaws. Course, this was before the screaming edge of my ax's chain teeth tore messily through its hind legs, while its twin took a little off the top in a quick triple burst of Ravager shells from neck to muzzle. The Dust-fueled flechettes burst apart on impact, and lived up to their namesake gloriously, the corpse collapsing off to the side to join its fellow in the muck.

 _'Evens the playing field up nicely, I'd sa... **Eh!?** '_

Ears twitching suddenly, I dove forward in a rough slide, just in time to avoid the crushing weight of a tree branch that cratered the ground I'd been standing on moments before in an explosion of dirt and debris that pitter-pattered across my gear like raindrops.

 _'No... Not a tree...!'_

A low growl built in the back of my throat at the sight of the "branch" easing itself with lumbering slowness into the air, root systems twitching and flexing like clawed fingertips at its base, casting a wide shadow as the nightmare thing attached lumbered on trunk-like legs from the twisted treeline and into the open. A giant golem of wood and spite, vaguely humanoid in the loosest terms and easily twice the size of the Beowolves that had come before it, staring cruelly down at my crouched form from a skull mask set into its chest. A mask that flexed bark-like teeth in a twisted parody of a mouth, the roar it bellowed hollow and echoing through the swamp.

 _"Arbor Gigas!"_ I accompanied the warning howl with a few thunderous bursts from my guns. "Spread! Bring them down!"

Dust-tipped rounds punched and bit deep into bark-like flesh, but doing little else other than irritating the Possession-Type Grimm. Didn't expect it to, anyway. The point of the flashy show was really just to cover my sidelong approach, ducking my way past one Beowolf that thought it'd take a pass at me, sending it yipping to the ground with a few bullets in its leg before it was finished off by a bandaged fist that blew off its lower jaw in a welter of crimson sparks and dark matter, the sign of another joining the fray.

One I certainly didn't need or want...

" _Stay out of it!_ "

I spat angrily at the newcomer, sidestepping another pummeling fist that heaved the ground beneath my feet and sent me staggering aside, though delightfully not before I tore a hefty chunk and a few fingers from the howling giant with a focused blast of my Semblance, and a sweeping chop from _Barghest_. Turns out living trees don't like axes, or chainsaws, and especially not both combined into one... Who knew?

"This thing's **_mine_**! I got this!"

Of course, the Grimm would choose that precise moment to catch me with a backhanded swing. Irony's just a bitch like that. A glancing blow from its trunk-like arm, but still enough to send me hurtling backwards to land badly in a patch of thick brambles, buffeting the air from my lungs, and knocking my weapons away.

A shadow fell over me as I lay dazed, struggling weakly against a hundred hooked barbs catching my gear and scraping my Aura's barrier, the Gigas reaching out a gnarled claw towards me...

 **"Obviously!"** a muffled voice called before a pair of sharp cracks rang out, the Grimm falling back with two fresh holes blown in its chest, crimson arcs of energy rippling across the surface of its possessed host flesh, tearing the wounds open even further as it flailed about wildly. I vaguely registered a gauntlet-clad hand swathed in tattered bandages reaching out for me, the barrel of a wrist mounted weapon still smoking and crackling with Aura-fueled menace. **"Maxi, are you...?"**

"Just peachy! Oh, c'mon, you _stupid...!_ ** _Gaaaah!_** "

Slapping the offered hand away roughly with a snarl, I tugged and wrenching at the annoying thorns keeping me down a moment longer before just wrenching the lot of it apart with a Semblance-driven scream of outrage that made splinters of it all. My savior stepped aside swiftly to avoid the worst of it, evidently knowing better than to try and stop me, merely letting loose a resigned sigh that, if anything, only drove me further on.

"I'm killing this bastard! Watch me!" I reached out, both axes snapping back to my palms, fingers gunning the triggers and setting serrated teeth whirring to clear the worst of the gunk.

 **"No, we should take it together! It's too...!?"**

A fallen stump creaked in protest and shut him up fast, rising weightlessly from the swamp before hurtling towards the foe with twitch of my head and a cry of savage effort, the impromptu projectile striking home and pummeling the giant back. But I wasn't done, oh not by a long shot.

Step by step, I grabbed at all available weapons at my disposal. Rocks, branches... _Anything_ at all that would hurt, I sent flying against the monster, ripping chunks from its borrowed form piece by piece, and giving it no time to respond.

But it wasn't enough... It was _**never** **ENOUGH**_ _!_

 _Barghest_ howled in my hands with renewed fury, sparks and embedded splinters spitting from razor-edged teeth as I braced myself and vaulted forward, landing feet-first against the broad chest of the Gigas, and slamming both axes home in its still-sparking wounds. More shallow than I'd have liked, but that was easy enough to fix, fingers gunning the trigger, and laughing at the sudden rush of wood chippings streaking through the air.

 ** _Rip... Carve... Slice... Chop... Chop... CHOP!_**

I reveled in the Grimm beast's yowling wails, tearing my weapons free with vindictive glee, and using them as leverage to clamber my way up its body, and hold on despite its thrashing attempts to shake me. One axe fell, the other ripping free and repeating the motion, again, and again, and AGAIN!

Its efforts were useless, my Semblance gouging great chunks from its grasping hands as it tried and failed to make a grab at me. One hand just imploded inward on itself under the force of a true giant's crushing strength. And for all the outward power I brought to bear outwards to defend myself, I put that much more into hurting this thing, and enjoying every godsdamn second of it.

Axes worked like hatchets with inspired strength beyond what muscle could muster, my Semblance forcing the biting teeth deeper, letting them chew more without catching. It was incredible, my face heated and blushing at another screeching wail from its broken jaws, the old habits taking hold once more, the warmth spreading down my limbs.

Wrenching a revving _Barghest_ free, I made for another swing, only to nearly lose my grip on its twin, and almost wrench my arm from its socket at an all too sudden shift in momentum, a groan ripping itself from my lungs in a snarling growl.

 _'Need to end this fast...!'_

More Ravager and standard rounds split across the surface of its arms and legs in bright bursts of shrapnel. Scattered aid from my comrades who sought to cover me, and keep the now desperate Grimm from retreating back into the cover of the trees, with me along for the ride. With a scream of effort, I focused what reserves of strength I had and braced my footing, waiting for just the right moment, using the inertia from the Grimm rearing back to roar to propel myself upwards high into the air above it.

For a few heartbeats, I was little else but weightless, wind whipping at shorn hair. Soaring well above the treeline to catch rushed glimpses of the wide expanse, dominated by those marshlands and steep cliff sides that made up the area.

The way the sun peaked above the horizon, at just the right moment, reflecting off the clouds and painting the sky and blooming a fiery crimson... Beautiful, pretty as a picture. One I intended to paint, once this was over... "Peaceful."Such a weird word...

Then gravity reasserted itself, and I began to fall, a twinge of something spiking up my spine... Fear? What was there to be afraid of?

 ** _Falling from a Bullhead? Pushed out by others towards a raging arena... Images flashing past. A gigantic Grimm looking over me as someone leapt..._ _Leapt... Anger... Fighting, more fighting... Always falling... Heights,_** _**falling...**_

Something nagged at me, a tremor of what must have been fear... It was stupid. The faster I fell, the faster I could get back to the fun!

Speaking of which...

Kicking my legs out to reorient my fall, and grinning beneath the visage of my APEX mask, I brought _Barghest's_ twin halves together, ratcheting the mechanisms with my Semblance, and allowing the pair to come together once more in a flurry of whirring teeth, clicking hinges, and shifting metal plates.

Hefting the handle of a now roaring, now double-headed chainaxe - gods, that sounded even awesome just thinking about it - over my head, I fell like a comet towards the still-screeching Geist down below. Trailing sparks, and cackling as loud as my lungs could bear.

No words, none of that " _For the White Fang_ " garbage some of the other grunts shouted. Nah, this was pure glee, joy, and the knowledge of victory.

This was me, _winning_.

And it heard me - oh, yes it did - its masked face staring up with soulless, burning embers for eyes that I liked to think understood the barest glimmer of what was about to happen. Realization dawning right before I buried the screaming saw blade right down the middle with everything I had, arms aching in protest as the blow sundered downward and ripped all the more, bringing the damned thing down to the ground. Splinters smacked off my gear and Aura, but still I sawed, pulling the weapon free the second I had the leverage, and chopping again, and again, and _AGAIN!_

Where before I had been hacking away, taking it apart piece by piece, this was far more brutal, hammering aside its limbs before chopping down, one great Semblance-fueled swing after another.

Soon enough, it was dead, unable to maintain itself under the onslaught. Little more than driftwood wreckage twisted into vaguely humanoid shape, now thoroughly savaged, and still it was a few seconds more before I finally ceased. _Barghest_ came apart with a whirring clamor, and rested loosely in either hand, still steaming from a mix of sap and bark chewed within its workings that a part of me knew I'd have to take care of when we got back.

The same could be said for my armor, coated in a thick layer of slime and gunk I didn't even want to think about. The cloying smell was atrocious, small, half-healing cuts laced along my arms and face. I was a mess.

And it all felt so... _so_ _fucking_ _ **amazing**_ _!_

Leaning my head back, the deep breaths I'd drawn before spilling out in a sordid little humming giggle, heat coursing down my extremities like fire.

The sensation worked its way from a beating drumbeat in my chest to the little haptic twitches in my fingertips along the triggers of my weapon. These were the good feelings, providing the memories I might not know, but felt different from the others... Less sad. The knowledge that I'd won, and that I was strong.

And I wanted to do it again. I wanted to hurt something else so, _so_ bad...

Satisfied, my arms were already moving to level _Barghest_ at another oncoming target, something else to hit, only to see that the rest of the Grimm's mates were already well in hand. Slain, or in the process of getting there, courtesy of my companions.

My own Pack, as it were... Much better than the Grimm's, obviously.

Marley laughed her little head off at the sport, swinging bodily around the neck of one of the smaller Beowolves with a bit of neat acrobatics, tearing out its throat grandly with a super-heated swipe from her fancy claw. She angled her lithe body around, and used the force of her momentum, and the Grimm's own spasms, to leap upon another smaller Gigas.

 _'Of course I'd gotten the bigger one... Typical luck.'_

The monster was in the process of extracting itself from the forests, only for the wild Faunus to spear it through the bark skin center mass of its torso, and bringing the Geist-driven horror down shrieking into one of the mud water pools. Steam wafted off the thrashing surface moments later as the two fought it out beneath the surface.

Pity for the Grimm. She didn't care for water much.

Cooper, quite to the contrary, was propped up against the shattered remains of a distinctly non-Grimm tree trunk on his haunches. He calmly watched the violent display, rifle alongside him, tapping the point of that fancy curved knife he'd swiped back during the last mission in Spearpoint against the panels of one red and white painted vambrace, sucking at a fresh cut on his thumb, and looking sour.

No idea why he didn't just toss the damned thing. Going from what I'd seen and heard, he'd managed to hurt himself more than anything else trying to wield the archaic weapon. Wouldn't really call myself superstitious, but that sort of bad luck was just uncanny.

Stupid piece of scrap didn't even have mecha-shifting capacity. Just a big letter opener with a particularly sharp edge, and a bit of Dust in the hilt. Dust that didn't even work properly to start with.

Really, what kind of self-respecting weapon wasn't also a gun these days? Just silly...

Didn't matter much. The rest of the Grimm were mopped up quickly and cleanly enough... for us anyway, and were soon moving again, boredom soon settling in. It wasn't like we'd expected much trouble on this little jaunt through the swamps and bogs of " _oh-so beautiful_ " Mistral. Wonderful place...

All sarcasm, of course. Project APEX had chosen this little patch of hellish dirt and mire in which to house its subjects for a reason, after all.

Unfortunately, as one could probably imagine, our little clubhouse wasn't exactly one of Remnant's more positive places to visit. That meant Grimm, lots of them, sprouting up every few days like weeds in large groups, and roaming throughout the area, causing trouble. Pests, really, but Falkner and her spooks, of course, had found a way to take advantage of the situation nonetheless.

This was supposed to be a bit of fun for the Packs. Something to break up the monotony between assignments.

Not... _this!_

"What're you doing out here, anyway?"

Well, that blade metaphor from earlier might've been a bit broad, not precisely hanging over the _whole_ group at large... It focused more on the tension between myself and a certain tag-along that had decided to include himself in our roster at the last minute with no rhyme or reason.

Of course, it wasn't like the other two with us were making much in the way of conversation after the fighting was done. Hanging far back behind us in near wary silence, the tension clear as day in their scent, and washing off them in cloying waves. They were terrified.

Not that I blamed them. They had good reason to be.

After all, a man like Conan Argus could be quite the intimidating presence when he had a mind to be, even when he was just slogging his way knee deep in mud, green sludge, and what I sincerely hoped and yet doubted was only water, just like the rest of us mere Grunts.

Perhaps it was the fact he'd finally ditched his usual face mask in favor of breathing unfiltered air - a rare enough sight these days as it was - and I had no idea why, seeing as the whole area smelled like some mix of old socks and plant waste. Not a good combination at all. Or maybe it had something to do with his attitude, or lack of one.

Where we'd, of course, had the occasional grumble of disgust or the hitch of breath as a boot fell where it shouldn't have and kept on sinking, he merely continued on in stoic stony silence. Pallid, olive-skinned features were impassive from underneath lanky, matted curtains of hair the same auburn tinge as my own sheared locks, and his eyes.

Those pools of reddish brown - again, so very much like my own, yet so different in their own empty, distant way - moved back and forth rhythmically between the trees. Tattered ears twitched at the barest notions of movement as we advanced, bandaged fingers flexing slowly, curling and uncurling in a way that had the blades of his _Wicked Grace_ twitching and clicking across his forearms.

Like a hound readying itself on the hunt; a predator seeking prey to lunge upon and rip apart... That is, until I spoke up.

"Hmm?" My father blinked and looked back over his shoulder at me, concern flickering across his expression and his scent. Concern for me, and it was irritating how quickly it had overridden everything else. "Did you say something, Maxi? Wasn't listening."

"Oh no, you don't!" I flashed my teeth angrily and adjusted my pace, coming up alongside him. My fists would've been clenched to if they weren't already wrapped tightly around _Barghest's_ twin handles, fingering the triggers tensely. "Don't go acting like you didn't hear me!"

"Wouldn't be asking if I did." Conan shot back, the ghost of a smile gracing those sallow features. Of course, it might've just been one of his Butcher's ticks pulling at his jaw muscles as they so often did these days. Another likely reason he preferred the mask. "Now, you were saying, Pup?"

"I asked you what it is you think you're doing out here?" I repeated sourly, growing steadily more irritated at the use of the old nickname that had Marley laughing under her breath. The childish nickname...

"Culling the dregs, just like the rest of you. Even I need a little walk every now and then, stretch my legs. This is as good a time as any." The amusement faded, his gaze falling sharply on my still-twitching fingers. "Pup?"

" _Really?_ "

There was an edge of humor in my tone, though I felt none of it. Instead, I merely paused in place and halted the advance, the others all hanging back nervously at the same distance they'd kept the rest of the time. No support from them, obviously, so I sent them off to explore the area with a gesture. Cooper had to haul Marley away by the back of her collar kicking and squirming.

"And... what? On these 'walks,' you just _happen_ to tag along with the group I'm supposed to be leading. That right?" I shoved a fist still clutching my weapon into his chest, putting the older canine back a pace. "Just like the last _three times,_ huh?"

He shrugged off the question like he had every other time before. Always with the damned shrugging. "Seems to be the case, doesn't it? Coincidence is like that. Your mother actually used to have this saying about it. What was it...?"

And there it was again. The coddling. That was the worst part. Just like with the nickname, like with the Butcher's Brew.

Despite the strides I'd made in the past few weeks - despite the successes and trials I'd overcome since waking up in that damn med bed - I was still a child in his eyes. Someone he had to protect, treat differently...

"Okay... Once is dumb luck. Twice is weird coincidence. But _three_ times!? That's just _bullshit,_ Dad!" Funnily enough, I think that might've been the saying he was looking for. Wonderful woman, my mother.

" _Language._ " That low guttural rebuke actually put me off a step, and made me laugh.

How could I not? It was just so... so... _ridiculous! That_ was all he got from that statement!?

"Just admit it, already! You _still_ don't trust me!" I stepped forward, looking him defiantly in the eye. "I've done everything you've asked! More so, but you still don't think I can cut it without you there, holding my hand every step of the way like some kid, right!?"

 _'Or some yipping puppy,'_ my thoughts added darkly...

"That's strange. I don't remember going to Sanus with the rest of you to deal with those Spearpoint traitors..."

"Uh-huh, like you didn't set Cerise to stick all her eyes on me the whole time!?" How she " _conveniently_ " stepped in at just the right moment to save me. How she knew exactly where one of her Pack Leaders was in the thick of it all, despite far juicier prizes to go after. _Riiight..._

The Blood Hound Commander stiffened visibly, eyes flashing, and suddenly I was moved back, or decided to step away on my own. It was hard to be sure. My heart was pounding too fast for me to be certain of anything. "...Is that what she told you?..."

"N-no, 'cause she didn't have to!" Breathe, in and out. Stand your ground, Maxi... He's hardly even denying it now. Not with that scent. "It's not like you're subtle about it, either! I'm a big girl, Dad!" The axes thrummed in hand as the urge to gun the triggers became too strong to hold back. Sparks flew, metal keened, and all the while he stood their impassive, letting my tantrum... no, my _grievances,_ play out. "I can take care of myself!"

"...And the dreams? What about them?"

Now it was my turn to go rigid, mouth working feverishly, with no words quite able to escape. Dad groaned, scratching at the back of one of his tattered ears, looking for all the world like the disappointed parent he used to be rather than the bloodthirsty commander most saw him to be.

"Falkner. She does try to keep me informed, y'know. They're still bothering you, aren't they? The flashes, those false images..."

"She... T-that's none of your business!"

"I'm your father, aren't I, Pup? Of course its my business."

The worst thing was, I believed him. I was happy he cared. I'd been happy since the moment I'd seen him after that nightmarish ordeal. Like some hole in my chest was suddenly filled, a weight lifted.

"I understand what you're going through, trust me. Every one of us at APEX does."

"No, you _don't!_ " These weren't hallucinations caused by some drug, was it? Trauma, like Doctor Falkner kept saying in our occasional session?

False images, is that all they were? The slides that haunted me when I least expected it, at the most random details?

How could he explain the drawings of people and places I'd never seen, always lacking the usual clear definition my work usually displayed, filtered as if through some muddy lens? How could he _possibly_ understand!? _HOW!?_

"Maxi?"

He reached for me, hesitating at the last moment, unsure of what to do. That was his weakness in moments like these. Mom was always the more decisive one, always ready to hand out a punishment or kind word if need the gods, I missed her sometimes, and now just wanted to hurt something again.

"Maxi, are you...?"

"I'm... I-I'm _fine!_ "

I used the side of my ax to bat aside his bandaged hands away with a metallic * _thunk_ * from his bracers, resuming my march, trailing ahead of him this time. My weapons were held loosely at my sides, eyes narrowed behind my own mask, eagerly searching out the next rustle of movement; the next target.

"I'm just fine..."

* * *

 ** _-Reika Murasaki-_**

" _Nah, Lass! Not like that! Check that breeze, the **breeze**!_" a deep, sonorous voice called out over the rushing wind and the deafening crash of waves as I struggled to maintain my balance atop the colorful board juddering beneath my feet.

Before I could... No, how was I supposed to reply? A sudden swell propelled me upwards sporadically as the skimmer, or "Netan,"as the crew affectionately referred to them, flew with a near silent whine of its Dust-fueled propeller across the seemingly endless expanse of blue looking ready to swallow me whole, carried by its buffeting sails over the caps of spraying salt.

Truly an incredible innovation birthed of mechanical design and trial. It was easy to see now how the wave riding warriors of Mooring had been more than capable of achieving the feats of maneuverability I'd witnessed back aboard my previous ship, dodging oncoming fire, and leaping clear through the air over a ship's deck from dozens of feet below in the span of an instant.

After having actually ridden one, I'd more than gained an appreciation for the skill it took to handle one of these boards, and an astonishing amazement for how any could survive the experience for long enough to be considered an expert.

The number of times I'd almost drowned in the last few days alone...

" _Come about! That's it! Ease weight off the bow to earn some height! Give yourself time to adjust!_ "

Desperately, I gripped the handle of the reed connecting the mast to the board itself with a white-knuckled right hand that I was quite surprised I hadn't snapped in two. I'd had to give it to the Pirate's artificers, they'd made this death trap sturdy, at least.

 _''...Ease the weight.' Easy for him to say...'_

Gritting my teeth and pulling with controlled might, I focused my efforts on following the shouted instructions. Aura-enhanced strength and awareness was brought to bear semi-neatly, angling the hurtling missile about so that I at least landed right side up, rather than dash myself against the waters as I had the first few attempts.

The Netan bounced erratically with a series of bone-jarring impacts for another few dozen yards, my fingers gunning the trigger clutched tightly at my left side until I'd evened out into something resembling a calm pace.

That was to say, when I wasn't in any danger of tipping over into the surf, or propelling myself headlong into one of the massive cresting waves.

Maintaining balance was a constant challenge, the slightest shift in weight and handling could throw me off in a dozen different ways, but if one could read the currents and land just right against the surface of the water... not unlike maneuvering a Rover across the Badlands' often uneven salt flats at high speed. The sort of skill it required where even a moment's distraction was enough to see both conveyance and driver hurtling end over end in so many pieces of twisted wreckage.

" _Not bad, Lass! Not too bad at all!_ "

Another of the boards came down beside me, slicing neatly into the surf, and spraying far more gracefully than my own landing. The wiry man astride it, bared to the waist and resplendent with brilliant blue and white tattoos that crisscrossed his dark skin, whorling swirls the same color as the bedraggled mop of braids hanging about his grinning countenance.

"May want to work on your landing, though! You alright!?"

I flipped him a finger waspishly, the man merely laughing once more with the same easy air that all Mooring souls possessed.

"Yeah, yeah, she's dandy! Head back to berth! Think you've earned yourself a break, then we go again!"

And with that, he depressed his trigger, racing off towards the distant image of the Colorless Prism just visible on the horizon, and only then because of the direct sunlight shining off the terrifying battering ram set across the stern.

"Try to keep up, now! Don't wanna lose ya on the way back! That'd just be embarrassing!"

Blizz, no last name given, first among Captain Majorelle... among Harper's "'Striders," and my educator in the art of "loving one's Netan," as he'd put it.

How he'd said such a thing with a straight face, I'd never know.

So be it, my "assigned task," as it was, given to me after about a week of various postings as a cook, mechanic, washer... all ending with various degrees of failure, if thankfully no lasting injuries. Shean had called it an honor, all while sounding relieved there would be no more exploding ovens and such.

The Strider's life was a dangerous but rewarding affair of excitement and privilege, responsible for scouting the oceans and announcing our presence to our chosen "hosts..." "Victims" was the more operative term in my opinion. We were the ones with first pick at the spoils, after the Captain, of course.

Each was a confident wielder of Aura, which made sense now, I supposed.

To move at the sort of speeds their skimmers did, and still be able to handle themselves, let alone function and fight in tight formation... Such things required far more than the body could endure without a little aid.

After a rather boisterous introduction from my new "comrades," I'd been given a board, and sent out for lessons. Trial by fire was seemingly the most popular method of learning in the Frontier.

 _'Bastards...'_

At first, I'd been thrilled by the prospect, if a little nervous, those strange skimmers perhaps presenting the best opportunity to escape. I'd first considered assaulting one of the _Prism's_ lifeboats, and had been woefully disappointed to learn that such things were not only well guarded, but slow as well. Any escape on those would be one quickly thwarted by the hands of the ship's crew, or its sizable gun batteries.

With the Netan's speed, however, Pino and I could be gone and away before they'd even realized we were gone, on our way to the closest landmass, laughing at how foolish the Pirates had been.

Shean, it seemed, had born a similar notion, informing me in fine detail of how such devices burned through Dust as greedily as their riders guzzled ale, perhaps maintaining maybe a few hours between power cells if that.

If we tried to run, and found ourselves stranded in the middle of a Grimm-infested ocean with little more than a board to act as a raft, well... Not exactly a sensible or alluring option.

This is, of course, was before I realized how difficult riding with only one soul on the board could be, let alone two. Those "lessons" proceeded as smoothly as one might've expected.

For the much of the last few days, that had meant Blizz was the one fishing me out of the surf every time I crashed, which was painfully too often for my tastes. He'd been patient, however. Affable, really, always quick to heap praise and offer advice along with his comrades.

The swimming lessons alone had been a welcome addition, my doggy paddle fast improving. They joked often in the nights when I would drag myself back to my spacious berth in the lower decks, joints and muscles screaming for relief, waking up to find a few extra rations and some oils for my muscles.

In more ways than one, it would've been far easier - preferable, really - if they'd been harsh and cruel. If Blizz had been some kind of tyrant, delighting in my suffering, tormenting me at ever turn.

It would've made him easier to hate. Made them _all_ easier to hate, actually. Everyone of them was so... _normal._

 _'No, not normal... Not really,'_ I corrected myself, veering quickly to avoid an oncoming wall of leaping in my throat at the quick maneuver, and the sudden rush of cold as I forced my way through the surf in a spray of foam.

Though to be fair, "normal" for me wasn't exactly normal for everyone else who hadn't grown up surrounded by bandits, outlaws, and ne'er-do-wells. Who hadn't learned to survive the wastes by sheer luck and the strength of one's own convictions. But strangely, and worryingly enough, life as it was now felt eerily familiar.

At least to me, my time with Bill's gang no doubt painting my own perceptions just a little bit, despite my best efforts.

For his part, Pino had taken to his new duties with far more gusto than I had my own, working as an aide under the _Prism's_ wizened Surgeon. A man who, from the sounds of it, might or might not have been a veterinarian at one point or another, until casting his lot in with Harper. I suspected the Horo-Sha... _former_ Horo-Sha was delving into the work so fastidiously purely for the familiarity of it.

Lux and his people's betrayal had hurt him, far deeper than he himself let on or perhaps realized, but he refused to speak of it in the rare instances we met one another over the course of the day, sitting together for meals or in the halls as he made his way around the ship. That new weapon of his jangling at his belt always, as much as he hated the sight of it.

Of the rest of the crew, from what I'd seen in my travels across the length of the vessel, limited as they were by the _Colorless Prism's_ own strange interior structure, confusing and confounding me at every step even with my Semblance, my new fellows lived simply, fought passionately, and laughed uproariously.

It was like a community in and of itself, with its scoundrels, its saints, its leaders, its little people... All working together towards mutual survival and a feeling of satisfaction.

A feeling I'd been stunned to discover, lying spread eagle on my lumpy, salt-smelling mattress, that I'd actually missed. That had been a rough night, memories of my team, of AMBR, keeping me up well into the dawn hours, searching out those meager motes of presence that was all I could sense of them. But no tears, not now, I wouldn't break.

I'd been so close to reaching them, so close to maybe fixing this!... But now...

" _ **Oi!** Pay attention, Lass!_"

Blinking, I realized with a start that my progress had been far swifter than expected, the shifting hull of the ship swiftly coming forth to meet me head on. Thinking fast, I pulled back against the supporting mast with all my might and gunned the trigger in my hand for all the Netan was worth, launching myself off a rising swell and hurtling vertically skyward.

Over the railing lining the lower decks I sailed, more than one startled onlooker cheering as I rode the wind's currents like a palpable force, flying ever forward. With a start, I read my Semblance, eyes picking Pino's masked face immediately from the crowd, the young man staring up at me, a bundle of bandages and glass bottles falling from his startled hands to scatter across the deck.

It was terrifying. It was nerve-racking. It was... _incredible!_

Dropping my hold on the propulsion trigger, I shielded my eyes from the blinding glare of sunlight gleaming off the deck and ocean below, my new height affording me a view of the ocean stretching out on all sides. Weightless, I drifted, free as a bird despite the chaos of my takeoff.

 _'Well, that wasn't so...!'_

" _Reika!_ "

Pino's panicked voice snapped me from my daydreaming, the reality of the deck swiftly rising up to meet me now readily apparent. Heart racing, I snatched outward for the trigger flailing on its line, catching hold, and gunning the engine with a whine of propelling blades. The wind wasn't catching, however, sails becalmed, and the force I'd brought to bear to counter the wind instead snapped the mast rig clean from the board.

The shattered Netan raced to the side in a corkscrewing dive towards the seas below, its rider now plummeting towards a glittering skylight set into one of the _Prism's_ upper viewing decks.

Bracing myself for the worst, I was pleasantly surprised as my Aura absorbed the shattering impact as I smashed fists first through the glass, rolling with the impact across plush, carpeted decking, rather than the metal cross works or reinforced wooden planks I'd been expecting. So soft...

All in all, far from my worst landing yet. I'd probably be made to fix the skylight, knowing the crazed logic of this ship and its crew, but as long as no one too important...

"Well, speak of the devil, and she shall appear, as they say! Hello there, Miss Murasaki!"

My heart skipped a beat, my Semblance filling in the blanks a fraction of a second later as I turned slowly, for the first time noticing the beautiful frescos of sea-faring majesty curving about the circular space, the gilded hangings worth more than Bill's entire convoy, the long table of richly ornamented driftwood, laden with confections, fruits, and other delicacies.

A half dozen faces, many of which I recognized as leaders of the assorted work gangs running different operations of the ship, Shean shaking his head fitfully with a palm against his misshapen face. And at the table's head, sipping at a flute of wine, and staring bemusedly at the fresh garnish of glass shards adorning the meal before him, closer than I had been since he'd attacked my ship...

"I must admit, I'm surprised to see you dropping by so suddenly for supper. Those strange manners at work again," Harper Majorelle tittered, looking with no small amount of amusement at my huddled form on the carpet. Returning the glass to Mister Florid, and smooting he front of a luxuriously brocaded coat of garish blue and puffy silk "Ah, well. Since you're here, you might as well join us. We were just discussing how you were faring under Mr. Blizz. The dear boy can be such a handful at times... Should we be covering our heads for him next, or...?"

Words trailed off, eyebrows raising instead in stark surprise at the new sound echoing through the room. A sound that sounded strange to my ears, as much for its impossibility than for the lighthearted flair to it. The way it shook my chest.

Really, I should be hating these people. It should've been easy...

So then why was I laughing with them?...

On top of that, why was I laughing _at all!?_

* * *

- **END**

* * *

 **-OC Voice Cast introduced this Chapter-**

Blizz - Steve Blum

* * *

 **-PRIMER-**

 **Netan -** Rider

* * *

 _ **A/N: Another chapter down, tried to have some more action involved in this one despite Ben's mostly being more picking up where Virgil's and Sonia's left off.**_

 _ **Atlas is reeling, the Frontier is hitting them, Cinder is hitting them...and Ben is attempting to get back to fighting strength, though he's afraid of more bionics and the like.**_

 _ **Haven't checked in on Maxi in a long while, those Arbor Gigas are basically possession type tree golems similar to those RNJR fought if flimsier.**_

 _ **And Reika is learning to wave surf Mooring style, and slowly picking up noises again. Will she be talking anytime soon? Probably not, but she's breaking out of that shell bit by bit.**_

 _ **This is also an announcement that I will be taking a SHORT hiatus to get some RL stuff done and the like. May also working on bits of AMBR: FR and condensing chapters in this story as well. Moving POVs together. So don't be shocked if you click on this story and it might be missing a few chapters.**_

 _ **It won't be long, a few weeks, and in the meantime I'd love to hear feedback. Favorite moments, things you enjoyed, things you didn't, whatever you guys had in mind.**_

 _ **The hope being I can take a bit of extra time and put out chapters with more content similar to those towards the end of Redemption. Chapters following more people than just the two I've usually had. If I can manage to have a good number of AMBR's characters or important side bits happening at once, that would be the ideal. Move the story along.**_

 _ **Anyway, hope to be back soon and thank you for your Follows, Favorites, and Reviews - Mojo**_


	15. Chapter 15

_**Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_

* * *

PARTIES & PAST WOES

* * *

 ** _-Sonia Bordeaux-_**

 _'...I see... So that is how it works, then...'_

A light hum escaped my lips as I pressed a hand against the windowpane, gazing with interest from the ramparts down at the barren fields below. I jumped only slightly as a clawed hand clad in dark fur and bone spines ripped itself free from the tar-filled depths of the spawning pits below, a fanged maw and burning soulless eyes following soon after.

Each dark shape took its place beneath the shadows of those great crystal spires, staring up at the shattered moon hanging in a sky the color of blood.

The beginning of a monster, the creation of a Grimm...

 _'Fascinating...'_

Staggering on unsteady hind legs, the newborn Beowolf reared back its head and howled, piercing the heavens with its horrific birthing cry. More followed suit, a whole pack's worth tearing themselves from the liquid darkness within minutes to join their brethren already stalking the length of the pit's edge.

The sight to most would have been... what? Horrifying? Incredible? A mix of both, I imagined.

So many lives given each and every day to stem the tide, years of effort and bravery devoted to stopping the Grimm... And yet for every monster slain...

My eyes tore themselves away from another screaming skull faced visage tearing itself free from the dark womb, shifting to gaze at the comrades standing beside me.

Alexander, usually so confidant and smirking, was struck dumb and wary in the face of this sight.

Such a fine Huntsman he made, dark eyes silently weighing his odds against the numbers below and the horde beyond even what we could see. Fingers tapping nimbly at the holstered pistol at his thigh, shield arm twitching every so often. Always so pragmatic. It was what made him a joy to work with, what made our team stronger.

In contrast of the greatest kind stood Natalie. Cowardly little Natalie.

She was clasping her hands together meekly to her chest so tightly, her knuckles showed a stark pale white from lack of sun. Looking down at the rare display as if she were caught between wanting to scream or vomit, and thankfully doing neither.

That would have been beneath even her - certainly beneath me - not to mention annoying.

And Eddy... or was it Duo?

I frowned, trying to settle between the two as the strongest and youngest of our number pressed his face fully against the glass like an ogling child at a zoo. The young man, peeking from behind wild, black amaranthine curls, trying to get an even better angle at the process taking place below, "oohing" and "ahhing" every time a Grimm made it too the barren blood-hued shores.

He really should have know better, but I forgave the slip in decorum.

It was his way, after all. And how could one not be interested in some way, shape, or form? These were the enemies of Mankind, and we were likely one of the few to witness their birth in such a fashion, a rare privileged few to this sight. And what a sobering one it was. A horde capable of wiping settlements off the map generated in mere minutes, where it might take years to develop Huntsman and Huntresses capable of facing them.

Hope crushed, despair rising... This was a sight that could break entire Kingdoms, I realized with a start, turning back to my musings.

This was something out of a painting. Maxine would have... Maxine would have... _Maxine..._ _ **MaXiNe**_ _..._ _ **maXiNE**_ _..._ _ **MAXINE...!**_

" _Rrgh...!_ "

The others, Eddy excluded, winced at the sound of splintering glass echoing throughout the stone corridors, my eyes widening along with their own at the impact my fist had made against the window's surface, cutting deep into the flesh of my knuckles.

Gritting my teeth with a low "tsk," I drew my hand back and flexed my fingers, watching the steady streams of crimson well up from the wounds, sliding steadily along the pale flesh of my arm.

Crimson to match the small red patch affixed to my wrist.

 ** _"Remember, dear. Charm, grace, confidence in all things..."_** Mother's old adage rippled through my thoughts with the voice of something more sinister and pointed. My lip quirking in self-disgust at the slip.

The cuts hurt - of course they did - but I hardly even seemed to register the pain... The physical twinges, at least.

It was somewhere else, but not really. An irritant, just like the face that had caused it. An unruly face better left forgotten and disregarded, where she belonged... Of no further concern or consequence.

She was below me, beneath my notice. Of course she was... Just a slip, a brief momentary lapse...

The deeper aches still lingered, however, sealed beyond walls that, by themselves, possessed flaws, allowing me to experience the sensation, but recognize the distance. I frowned, wondering on that description before I felt my a firm pressure on my hand, gentle yet strong, warm yet cold... in a way deeper than flesh, but of the soul.

Blinking absently, I realized Duo had taken hold of my injured limb, running his thumbs across the ragged wounds, examining them with a shared look of childish worry and careful practice. Another oddity from a man steeped in such things.

"Sonia? You feeling okay?" His concern was touching, his loyalty reassuring. "Do you want me to...?"

His voice trailed off, his other hand going to the green-colored beanie he wore, pulling it down low over his face, almost seeming embarrassed. He'd been much the same back at Beacon, back with SBLE... _N-no..._ No, that wasn't right.

That wasn't real. I had to remember that... But the way he acted was so similar, and was exactly what I'd expected of him.

The other two had stayed fixed where they were, just as I had known they would as well.

Both tensed, as if waiting for me to slip into some sort of rage or tantrum like a child. An utter foolishness thought, of course. They were my team. While I might provide a stern lesson or two every now and then, I would never harm one of my comrades unduly... Without reason, of course.

That was why I was Leader. Why I'd been placed in command of this special group of individuals.

"Of course, Eddy. Apologies."

I waved the concern away, eyebrow twitching at the curious spike of pain that accompanied the motion of the injured limb. The pain traveling down my arm like fire, mixing with something underneath the surface; a feeling the patches provided. A feeling that twisted the sensation into something else, motivation.

It urged me to hunt, to hurt, to get angry... flashing the image of that little dog in my mind's eye. An unruly face framed by auburn hair, and a crooked smile that belied the darkness lurking just beneath the surface. A rabid dog that sought to take, and take, and _**TaKe,** and **tAKe!**_ Taking everything that wasn't hers, that should've been...!

...One better left forgotten, pushed aside into irrelevance where she belonged, for I had grown beyond her. Yes, that sounded more refined. Proper.

"If you could? I'd rather our Lady not catch me in such a state."

"Yeah, sure thing. Just hold still _aaaand..._ "

My teammate nodded eagerly, closing his eyes and grimacing for a brief moment, sudden burning heat like liquid fire passing from the points of contact where his skin met mine, stealing my breath away, even if I hadn't been treated to the sight of my own flesh knitting itself back together.

Ragged cuts that should've left deep scars, split veins, broken capillaries, all of it seemed to merge and be reformed as green-hued light mixed liberally with an ocean's blue. They pulsed in time with each other, quickly and succinctly, until all that remained of the ugly wounds were the pink pucker of fresh skin, and the tiny crimson stains about the cuff of my jacket's brocaded sleeve.

A wide grin split the Huntsman's youthful features, green eyes shining in their sockets. " _Aaah-_ ha...! There we go! See that? Good as new!"

Edward Briar, a young man of so many talents, and so much heart where it counted. A true shame, then, that fate had seen those skills used and abused over the course of his life. That such a soul was forced to endure such hardships at the hands of the cruel animals of the White Fang, those dastardly criminals of the Red Hand, and even his own family.

Hardships I had witnessed and judged with my gift on the surface of his thoughts, shouted clear as day from the depths of his fractured Aura, reflecting the split in his psyche.

Of course, I'd waited for Eddy to come forward, to confide those things to me himself before remarking and advising on them, for fear that it was not my place.

I was not to be some tyrant, like that foul Lucas Violette, who would see him wasted in the pursuit of a savage's weak, selfish ideals. I was his Team Leader. A _proper one,_ unlike that monster, Ambrose, or that little fool, Rose.

I was his guide and confidant; someone who he could turn to. A means of providing direction for his abilities in service to our Lady's many desires. Life had made the young Briar into a potent tool. Against his will, but a tool all the same, just like the so-called enemies of Mankind she bent to her whims. And it fell to myself, by order of those who had, in turn, aided me, to make use of him.

Together, with the rest of SAND, we would see to the creation of a brand new world. A _better_ world.

Even if in doing so we had to see the old one burned, so that it might rise once again from the ashes... Just like Lady Cinder had said...

 _'An honor, a responsibility. A **joy...** '_

I pondered that as I pulled my hand away from his. My attention, and those of my fellows, were turned now to the wide, ornate double doors creaking open of their own accord behind us.

A creature hovered forth across the threshold a few inches above the cobblestone floor, floating through the air like some creature of the ocean's depths. An orb-like body covered in bony protrusions that glowed with its own internal ambiance, possessive of numerous barb-tipped tentacles that quivered and twitched sporadically in its motions.

A "Seer," as they were known to the inhabitants of this place. A curious and useful creature... if annoying at times. For one thing, it presented a clear signal that we were summoned. That our patrons had need of us once more.

Natalie pulled away from the Grimm as far as she was able, placing Alexander before her almost on reflex. _Again._

 ** _"-CoMe.-"_**

The insistent hissing wheeze of an inhuman voice echoed in my skull, through my Aura itself. The feeling felt... wrong.

Our guest's sudden intrusion was enough to put a shudder through my body, though if the others had heard its whispers, they themselves showed no sign. I drew in a breath to calm myself, fingers quivering towards the hilt of my _Broken Spring,_ the sword-breaker a comforting weight on my hip.

Once more, I thanked the gods and Madame Cinder for presenting such a perfect likeness of my old weapon, even improving upon the base design. Such kind comrades we served in this glorious cause.

 ** _"-CoMe... cOmE... ComE...-"_** It "said" once more insistently, repeating the command even as it trailed away back from whence it had come, expecting us to follow.

And so we did, trailing in the monster's wake, Alex's quietly mumbled curses and Natalie's sordid whimpering setting the tone for the journey.

I for one strove to be better: upright in appearance, confident in deed, ready to serve...

 ** _"Back straight, face forward, eyes set, with a smile on your face..."_**

* * *

 ** _-Joel Ambrose-_**

Akai-Hana... was such a curious place, I decided, looking about at the bustling shop fronts and hastily-erected stalls. All of it was so spread out throughout the main winding thoroughfare of the village.

The inhabitants all set about their myriad tasks, bartering over foodstuffs brought in from the farms, conversing in the open or over tables around warm fires spread out every so often to combat the winter winds. Bereft of the chaotic rush of vehicles, lights, and crowds that Vale possessed even outside of the Vytal Festival season, the rural town had a much calmer aura about it; a simpler feel. "Quaint," as Liz had put it.

Certainly more distance between everything. My mind drifted off far more easily, lost to fancy.

Despite the simplicity, the town had a wall about its boundaries, which was something familiar to me. Most villages outside the safety of the Kingdoms proper had one, or so I'd been informed, as a way to keep back the Grimm. Though, given the utter magnitude of the great bulwark I'd grown up surrounded by back in Bastion, I was a bit hesitant to give the barely-five meters tall structure of brittle wood and stone the same credit.

 _'No, that's not fair...'_

Akai-Hana was barely the size of a proper district in comparison to the Frontier's capital. And for all that, it hadn't suffered from what I'd seen. Still, I wasn't quite used to so much space. Crowds of people, tight confines like a school or a bunker, a sort of excited tension in the air from so many souls packed together... The market square was the closest thing to matching that feeling, and by in large, it felt almost empty to my senses.

"Thom? You sure you're alright?" Asagi voiced the question, looking back over her shoulder, smile wavering as she adjusted the weight of the small basket she carried on her hip as she waved off a particularly energetic trader. Nervous, though the barmaid couldn't quite keep the admiring gleam from her eye at the twinned pair of hefty wooden jugs swaying at either end of _Storm Song's_ extended form, spear balanced evenly across broad shoulders. The bladed end was sheathed, of course, to avoid any unpleasantness, the _Heart_ pulsing its silent tunes in time to my movements.

Not entirely what Ruby Rose might have had in mind while designing the weapon, but it worked splendidly just the same.

The liquid contents of both containers sloshed with every step I took, weight deftly counterbalanced by the other bundles I'd lashed to its silvery surface: bundles of herbs, clumps of vegetables. The fruits of our errands, as it were. I'd offered after seeing the young server struggling every few days to pick up deliveries and such to replenish the Amber Fox's ever-dwindling stores.

I'd promised to spend some time with her after all. Kill two Nevermores with one bullet, as Ruby might say.

"Carrying all that, I mean," she elaborated swiftly, motioning with a finger towards the load. "It's not too heavy, is it? I mean, I can get some of that, if you'd...?"

"Oh, this isn't much," I replied, not entirely sure why she gasped, along with more a few other onlookers also, as I easily hefted the weight a bit higher to allow a few stunned children to scurry past me. Some outright applause was even enough to bring heat to my cheeks. "It's a decent workout. Besides, I said I'd help. Doesn't make sense to weigh down the one leading the way, after all." I did my best to ease her worries, though the astonished look she shot me wasn't much more comforting. "I've got my Aura. Compared to what I usually deal with against the Soulless... the _Grimm,_ I mean, this is nothing."

" _...Soooo..._ Can all Huntsmen do things like that? Use their Aura to make things... um, easier?" Asagi asked after a few awkward seconds of not meeting my gaze, scales flushed with sudden embarrassment. Why that was, I could only guess. It was getting harder to read her mood, her particular Faunus trait making things a bit difficult. "Even the Huntresses?"

" _Especially_ the Huntresses. You'd be surprised!" I chuckled, relieved to see a smile on her face again as she accepted the answer with a renewed spring in her step, barraging me with question after question in regards to Aura and its many uses. "With Aura, we don't have to fear the Grimm. Instead, they fear _us_."

The young woman was quite the curious student, and I did my best to keep up as we settled back into an easy march. The Snake Faunus led the way to various merchants, haggling prices down, and adamantly refusing to add to my burden any further, while I did my best not to take up to much space on the road, and weather the few lingering stares.

 _"Just how strong could a person be?", "Did muscle factor into any of it?",_ and, of course, the inevitable _"Could you teach me how to do something like that? Pretty please?"_

I'd had to think up a good excuse to dodge that one, and the disappointed look on her face at not being able to breeze her way through the chores on her own was almost enough to break my resistance there and then.

Teaching her would have meant unlocking her Aura directly with my own, which was an exhausting and not to mention deeply personal process, that, in more ways than one, bonded the two souls, if one believed in such things.

Jaune and Pyrrha might hae attested to such...

 _'Not that I can deny some truth to it, either...'_ My hand twitched, drumming out a reedy tempo along _Storm Song's_ length.

The last and only person I'd " _awakened,_ " as they said in the Frontier, had been Elizabeth, herself, back in the Red Hand's "Boot Camp" our first day.

Memories of a scared young woman so different from the warrior she was now sprang to mind unbidden, shrinking away from me, even as I held her hand in mine, sparks of electricity and azure light pulsing between us as I brought what dormant power she had to bear. She'd wanted to serve, and that had been the first step.

A brutal process, and one neither of us had been entirely prepared for. She'd deserved better, and I didn't intend to do it again...

Thankfully, I would be saved the trouble, Asagi's sour expression soon faltering after I'd talked up the years of intense training and concentration required to make use of it, accompanied by a few stories of things I'd seen that had her gaping in disbelief. My adventures at Beacon gave me plenty to draw on, if nothing _too_ specific.

Such feats weren't so impressive, were they? I'd seen Yang bench this sort of weight as a mere warm up using her Aura, not to mention those massive speaker systems for the dance we'd had to move into place. Qrow and Weiss' sister, Winter, had apparently fought their way across half of Beacon in seconds from what a gushing Ruby and Weiss had shared, leaping from parapets and all that. When put up against a feat like that, my little display... Though, given my size and the lack of any skilled Aura users in the area...

Oh, right, that's why. There's nothing for her to compare it to. I sometimes forgot just how miraculous things like Huntsmen and Aura could really be to a person. After a while, one just got used to seeing others combat monsters with little more than just their strength of spirit. It was what was expected.

The way Asagi made the title out as, Huntsman and Huntresses might as well be superheroes to the common folk.

 _'Better superheroes than distant lords or dismissive champions...'_

I fought down a tick of anger at the memory of Bastion's Huntsmen turning their noses up at those they were supposed to protect. Turning their back on sworn responsibilities. Disregarding...

"The reason I ask is... Well, Mistress Anbā's brother was a Huntsman. Her mother, too, before she passed; a Huntress, I mean. They were Akai-Hana's guardians, originally, along with his wife. Did you ever hear that?"

The Snake Faunus' words caught me off guard, almost making me stumble and nearly upsetting the delicate balance I'd maintained. "Should I have?"

"Mmm... No, I guess I should've thought not. It's not really something that comes up much these days, especially around her. Even I don't know all that much, truth be told. I just hoped that, since you're also a Huntsman, you might've..." She bit her lip with a fanged incisor, scales paling. "...Forget it, I shouldn't have assumed."

"Sorry, but I'm still pretty new to Mistral. I wouldn't be aware of local reputations." The closest contact I'd ever had was from my partner Max, and the only thing she'd ever really shown from her home was a few Mistrali pankration techniques in our spars.

Curiosity got the better of me, though, especially when Asagi's eyes turned towards the open gates in the distance, towards the forests beyond. Her voice had taken on a somewhat conspiratorial tone. "Sienna and I only stumbled across this village by chance after her injury. It was a lucky break for us."

A white lie. Marigold had led us here, indicating the village on a map so old, it dated back to the Great War. It was a place I wasn't sure the modern world even remembered anymore.

A place where we could be safe for a time.

"Believe you me, the older folks in town appreciate it, having a Huntsman around again. It's been years since I've seen them so happy," Asagi said warmly, placing a hand on my bicep, and giving it a light squeeze. "I think it reminds them of how things used to be, when they didn't have to go hungry just to get a Huntsman out here, or having someone they could rely on to protect them."

Understandable. Before I showed up, all Akai-Hana had to defend itself was a few rifles locked away in storage, poor walls, and a signal tower to warn against hordes that might form in the forest. All in all, it was rather basic as opposed to the technical marvels Atlas employed, or Vale's natural defenses.

"They sound like good people."

Asagi nodded, her expression taking on a somber aspect that I knew boded ill. "They were, yeah. I was barely walking when her mother passed, but I always grew up hearing about what an inspiration she was to the Faunus in the village from my parents. A Huntress and a hero both. Always said I should try to be like her."

I didn't press on, letting her talk at her own pace, flashing her a comforting smile. It seemed appropriate. "I do still remember a few things though, like how her brother and his wife were always so cheerful when they came to town. Always smiling and laughing. Their son, too. We used to play together in the Inn while Anbā and the rest of them talked business."

"...Do you mind if I ask happened to them?" It was an impertinent question, and one I should've asked Anbā herself. It couldn't have been anything good, especially if it left a scar no one was willing to reopen.

"From what I've heard - and this is just whispers from those drunk enough to get into the subject - there was... some kind of terrible accident. A fire caught in their cottage just outside the walls, but not everyone's exactly sure about the cause. Some mistake with Dust, perhaps, or Grimm. No one really knows." She shook her head, picking up her pace as the peaked roof of the Inn came into view, lowering her voice as though afraid the old Fox might hear what we were discussing. "But some aren't so sure it _was_ an accident..."

Things proceeded somewhat normally after that, the barmaid doing her best to change the subject as we busied ourselves preparing for the night ahead under Anbā's watchful gaze...

...Still, I was curious.

* * *

It was evening by the time I managed to spirit myself away, leaving the inn, and easily navigating my way past the lax security at the gates. Far too easily, in fact, that the Frontiersman in me was appalled, already planning what I would say to the Master of the Watch currently drinking himself silly, face first in his cups.

But that wasn't why I was out here. No, I had a different purpose in mind.

Tracking down the site - or, more accurately, what was _left_ of it - proved even harder than I might have anticipated, not having much in the way of directions to go off of. It took hours of searching, and more than a few near run-ins with Grimm and other wildlife, but sure enough, when I did stumble across it... well, it was unmistakable in more ways than one.

The burnt-out skeletal remains of a small, if solidly built little cottage - disturbingly not all too dissimilar to the Xiao Long residence back in Vale, nestled along the broad banks of a frozen river deep within the heart of the gnarled marshlands far from Akai-Hana's walls.

That in itself wasn't too surprising, as many Huntsmen and Huntresses chose solitary lives in the wilds to be closer to the beasts they hunted, or, in this case, to protect those they sought to defend from the efforts of their training.

 _'That's obvious enough, clearly...'_

Signs of Dust use tended to linger long after the initial act, and marks of damage from extensive application of several different types were clearly visible across the scope of the surrounding area around the site. Old burn scars and frostbite marred the surfaces of several gnarled trees and shattered trunks. Great gouges in the ground and stone that were in no way natural, my Aura and that of the _Heart_ resonating with lingering electrical discharge that, even now, scored the the air in crackling waves of latent energy that left me tugging at my scarf, fingers twitching...

Even the house itself hadn't been entirely spared, some sections still smoking as the remnants of what must have been Dust stored within still smoldered impossibly years after the disaster, repelling the snow's attempts to cover the scene, stubbornly keeping the memory fresh for all those that looked upon it.

Few people had sought this place out in the intervening years, and it took merely stepping across the threshold of the building itself to understand exactly why that was. A tangible sense of anguish, fear, and anger hit me like gust of warm wind that had nothing to do with the still-burning Dust within, scratching at my awareness in powerful sense of wrongness. Raw negative emotion that threatened to unnerve me then and there. It was so palpable, I was utterly shocked the entire area wasn't crawling with Grimm of all shapes and sizes.

One hand went to the ends of Yang's scarf even tighter for instinctive comfort, the other snapping to the cylindrical tube at my waist in preparation for an attack that, by all rights, should've happened by now.

 _'No wonder they were suspicions...'_ I shivered, wanting nothing more than to leave, but instead gripping the silver even tighter in my grasp as I moved forward, each step a sheer challenge of will. _'This is...!'_

Something had happened here. Something bad, terrible. That much was obvious.

A glint of something bright caught my gaze, flickering and shifting in the dim light of the moon with a fluted chime, halting me in my tracks in an instant. _Storm Song_ sung to life in my hand, blade held in reversed, and at the ready to face whatever or whoever it was... But there was no need.

Along the lip of a great stone hearth - one that, in its heyday, would've dominated a fair section of the cottage, yet now stood half collapsed and blackened from heat and cracked from cold - stood a spun, ceramic vase... It was more a cup, really. Something a young child might've made for a parent.

Its contents were the reason I'd turned, however... And was now the reason I could do little more than gape in open disbelief. Flowers... No, not _just_ flowers.

A bouquet of lilies, delicately formed with painstaking detail from what at first I thought was glass, but upon closer inspection, could only have been perfectly stable Ice Dust. Bulbs glowed softly with an internal pall cast by the Burn Dust set within the core, the pair reacting and sustaining one another to an almost ludicrous degree of precision.

Something that, by all rules of natural law, should've been impossible... but by Dust was made real.

...I'd seen such things before... I knew _who_ had created them, and what this place was... I now knew _why_ Akai-Hana could possibly be trusted... And I retreated in the face of it. As swiftly as my legs could carry me, not stopping until I'd all but collapsed through the doorway to my and Liz's shared room, the girl stirring only briefly until falling back under the sway of whatever dreams assailed her.

It felt as though I'd intruded on something I shouldn't have... Something _personal._

And my own dreams were no less kind, tinged by fire and flickers of an anger that I had seen but never truly witnessed... And never hoped to.

* * *

 ** _-Maxine Argus-_**

 _...What is a Blood Hound? What is Project APEX?..._

Most, I suspected, had their own answers to those questions. Colorful ones, probably, filled with swearing, curses, and other fun stuff...

The fight for Faunus equality took on many different shapes, working from many different angles, each with their own methods and supporters. Most of which was politics and public opinion, the minutia of which I could never truly wrap my head around, my head aching every time I'd gone and made the attempt.

Everyone had their own opinion, and, better yet, thought theirs was the only one worth listening to.

Way I understood it, given Dr. Falkner and Dad's best attempts to explain their reasoning, a Faunus had two options to go with. Two that really mattered, at any rate.

The old guard's way of doing things: that old cat Ghira Belladonna and his kind's idealism, espousing change through peaceful protest. Changing the public's hearts and minds with tolerance and education, teaching the Humans that we weren't the rabid lower-class animals they considered us to be.

Then you had the new way. High Leader Khan's way: advocating fear and violence. If Humankind wasn't going to give us the respect Faunuskind deserved, then we as Faunus would have to take it for ourselves, and woe to whatever poor fools got in our way.

And strangely enough, her radical idea seemed to be working its magic.

Change was happening in a way Ghira's never had. Faunus could walk down the street without the worry of being jostled and harassed by Humans looking for a fight, because, in their minds, their would-be oppressors knew what would happen as a result.

And one had to respect results, after all...

Fear would be our weapon of choice. The weapon that would create a world where no Faunus would ever have to feel its like again. A world where no little girl would lose her mother to a bunch of bigoted drunks on some no-name street corner. Never again.

Easy enough to see where the Blood Hounds stood on that scale, with a name like ours. Though we were a bit... _unique,_ even so.

Officially, at least in the minds of most with some knowledge of the White Fang, APEX was pretty much the byword for the sort of fear Sienna Khan had in mind.

To those who would hurt the Faunus, to those who would ignore our people's suffering or take pleasure in inflicting it themselves, we were the big stick that would keep them in line... or crush them without mercy as an example to others who would do the same, if given the chance.

That, and the host of medical advances Falkner pumped out, beyond the Brew even. Detailed studies in regards to Faunus physiology, what made us tick the way we did, why were we superior... How could we be made _better..._

She and Sienna had wanted a force of fighters who would never obey their own desires before the White Fang and its noble cause, and could act as beacons showing our race's potential to the Humans.

Or that had been the idea, anyway. They got it half-right. APEX had certainly shown everyone exactly what a Faunus in battle was capable of.

Hell, in reality, we weren't even those fighters. Not really. We were the ones the rest of the White Fang needed, but didn't want. Those responsible for the dirty jobs that most wouldn't have the stomach for, and strong enough to do the job right better than anyone else.

Every Kingdom had them. People their leaders trusted to act where others couldn't or wouldn't.

If High Leader Khan's minions needed information obtained at any cost, an enemy dispatched with assured haste, or a message of a certain nature sent, they came to Project APEX... They came to the Blood Hounds, looking for soldiers.

But we weren't soldiers... Not by a long shot.

We had too much _fun_ for that...

* * *

"Aw, c'mon, Maxi! Quit being such a downer!"

I winced as Marley called out over the pounding beat of the speakers, voice just barely managing to crest the synthesized tones filling the mess hall's acoustics with a pulse and rhythm so strong, I could physically feel the vibrations in my chest and the ringing in my ears. The spoon I'd been spinning and bending erratically with my Semblance plopped down in front of me, putting out even more noise.

It really didn't help that she was forced to compete with the dozens of other Faunus, all shouting themselves hoarse, dancing manically, and otherwise losing themselves to the sensations the impromptu club scene provided, but the leopard did her best, given the circumstances.

The combined beat of more than a hundred hearts pounding to the tempo of the sound... that deafening stomp as boots smashed against the concrete floor and bodies weaved, jumped, and twisted... Every breath scented with the mind-numbing cocktail of sweat, hormones, and thrill...

Such chaotic events weren't exactly uncommon. Far from it. If anything, they were necessary and even encouraged. Something to help the more rambunctious blow off steam. Music, dance, even a small ring made up of tables where Packs could settle their differences for the entertainment of all, letting the harsh-lived souls of APEX distract themselves from the Butcher's siren song, and raise morale after victories, such as this one for example.

Another clutch of Packs had only recently returned from a successful run against the White Fang's enemies, the Red Hand and some of those Frontier crazies, from the look of their trophies. Lucky bastards. And with few losses on our side, too. More cause to celebrate by dancing the night away, and losing ourselves to the rush of things.

"You've been in the dumps since even before we got back from that Spearpoint slog! _Live a little!_ "

My friends certainly were, at that. Marley raised a frothing mug high in victory over the pair of hulking brutes passed out on either side of the diminutive Faunus. She was already reaching for another, to the cheers of her many fans, red-faced and laughing.

Meanwhile, Cooper pursued his own win, leaning against a pillar across the room, chatting up one of the prettier communications techs that had been assigned to the Pit to support our efforts. Doing a decent job of it, too, going by what I could make of the smell.

What made it almost unbearable were the knowing looks the little firebrand was shooting me with. The ones I'd been enduring since she caught me sneaking glimpses at the dance floor, where a particular Spider Faunus was just visible through the sea of bodies. Hips rocking to and fro, body moving with such flexibility that made me question if the woman even had bones, vivid tattoos shifting and flexing across bared skin...

"Enjoy the party! Amirite!?"

Ah hell, they _were_ right. And worse, I knew it, too. These were my comrades. I ought to be thrilled for the victory. I ought to be ecstatic those monsters in the Red Hand got what was coming to them... But still...!

"It should've been _us!_ " I spat back angrily with an insistent growl, resting my chin on my fist. "Falkner rated us ready ages ago, but it's been nothing but fucking clean-up duty ever since Spearpoint! You can't tell me that doesn't piss you off!"

"Sure it does, but what are we supposed to do about it?" she said with a shrug. Gods, I hated the shrugging. The metal blade of her claw tapping out a rhythm in time with the music. "Already said ya didn't wanna lean on your Dad, right? So what's left but to sit there and take it? You won't change your mind, neither will he. You're both stubborn as hell! It's why I follow your lead, and you his!"

She raised a single bladed appendage, one of the flustered techs bringing over another round, and setting it down before darting off at another look from the two of us. Cooper could slum it with the weaklings if he liked. For most, it was better to just ignore them as much as they tried to ignore us.

 _'Wow... Knew she probably didn't mean to make it sound like it was all **my** fault, but **really?...** C'mon...'_

I groaned heavily and knuckled my forehead at the onset of another headache, reaching out for my drink only to find it swooped up by another beforehand.

" _H-hey!_ " I slammed a fist down with a snarl that was lost in the wall of noise, rounding on the thieving bastard. "That's mine you...!" I hesitated at the sudden heat, biting my lip at the bare, tattooed flesh standing over me, gleaming with a thin layer of foul sweat, topped by a curly mop of hair and goat horns. " _Iblis!_ "

The other Blood Hound didn't even hesitate, downing my mug in a few slurping gulps, snorting a sudden gust of flame to burn away the residue pooling at the bottom in a flash of sour-smelling steam. Brightly lit eyes glared blearily down at me from the mess of vivid scarring that made up much of his face, just as dismissive and hateful as they had been the first time they'd caught sight of me.

Why that was? I hadn't the fucking slightest idea.

Iblis had been here before me, and was one of those that had rescued me, if I'd heard correctly. Strong - and with a powerful Semblance that made Marley's look like a warm breeze, to boot - he was an Alpha of his own Claw, like Cerise and Kingsley... or he _had_ been, at any rate. Busted back down to slum it with the grunts for reasons no one seemed willing to talk about, especially not within earshot of the hateful goat.

All I knew was it had involved my dad, and me to some extent, even if I couldn't recall. No one was willing to get into specifics.

Didn't matter, I supposed. Dad would have had his reasons, and a prick's a prick, regardless. And Luke Iblis was most certainly a prick. A drunken one, at that.

" _Aaahhh,_ that hits the spot!" my counterpart sighed, wiping at his lips with the back of his bare forearm. "My thanks for offering."

" _Asshole!_ " I growled low, ears flat to my skull in readiness, fingers twitching towards my waist to grab... Right. I was suddenly wishing that _Barghest_ wasn't sitting in the armory right now. Ah well, not like needed it. "That was _mine!_ "

"' _Was'_ being the operative term, Argus, as in it _was_ yours, but not anymore. My Pack's victory. _My_ party," the goat man slurred drunkenly with an angry grimace, swaying on his feet. "Only fair I make the rounds and take my share of the spoils, don't you agree?"

Oh right... Knew there'd been another reason I'd been pissed off.

"No, I don't, but I'll be a good sport and let you make it up to me!" I sniffed angrily, trying to keep a lid on my temper, even as the table began to rattle behind me of its own accord. "Be a good host and get me another, won't you?"

His eye twitched at that. A tiny thing, but telling. As if I needed that, his scent alone made it clear what he was feeling. Couldn't exactly hide it from me, every instinct I had practically screaming it at me.

"Is that any way to talk to your betters, you cur dog?" Ooh, insults. classy. "Grunts should show some respect!"

"Only grunt here's you, _Goat!_ Least I _lead_ my Pack! Or did Pantera croak without me noticing!?" I wasn't so lucky. I hated both him and the goat, but fortunately for me, it was in my favor this time. That meant the goat was right where he belonged: the bottom of the food chain. "Now you gonna get me a drink, or what!?"

"That fool Swart can lick my boot heels for all I care, the scheming wretch! You, too, for that matter, and your minuscule so-called 'Pack' of misfits!"

My friend bristled, scratching deep furrows in the table going by the screeching of metal on metal scoring over the music. He just scoffed dismissively, the expression alone enough to set my ears twitching.

Then he did the one thing he shouldn't have done... He _shrugged_ , tossing the still-steaming cup aside, only for it to hover in midair for a few seconds, before shooting back into my palm with a hearty *snap.*

It was still searing hot to the touch, even through my gloves, not to mention it stank to high heaven. I smashed it to scrap without a second thought.

"Hmph... Still with the fancy little trick, I see. Cute."

He wanted a fight. That much was obvious... Okay, fine. I'd bite. Had some steam of my own to work off, anyway.

"'Cute,' huh? I'll show you cute, you old, washed-up...!"

I made to stand, only to find myself dragged up roughly by the collar to his scowling face, Marley leaping up in her seat with a flash of hissing talons, only to be blasted back by a fireball that had burst from the Faunus' hand, yelping as her Aura attempted to beat back the licking heat, singing large holes the front of the cast-off shirt she wore.

The commotion wasn't exactly subtle, drawing the eyes of everyone nearby with varying reactions of nervousness and excitement. Two powerful fighters at odds, it was entertainment, especially given who was involved.

"Y-you crazy...!"

"Still so impetuous, it's almost adorable! The little puppy dog, acting like she's one of us, despite not even being worthy of the Butcher's blessings! Acting like she's better than me, scum! It's her fault - all _yours_ \- for everything that's happened!"

He was ranting, lost to the Butcher's Song. I could see the signs clear as day in his eyes. But what the hell was he talking about, "my fault!?"

"But she's so forgetful, too! Daddy isn't here to save her this time...!"

Okay, so he was crazy, and pushing all the wrong buttons. _**Fun!**_

" _Raaagh!_ "

My attacker barely had time to blink before my forehead smashed into his nose with a hearty *crunch* of cartilage. A high-pitched squeal lost to the music as he himself was buffeted backwards by an invisible wall of force driven by the howl, Aura flashing as he was sent sputtering and skidding to his knees on the edges of the dance floor, leaving a hearty trail of red in his wake.

Just as satisfying as it had been with Cerise... Huh? When had I...? No, that wasn't right... Was it!?

Cheers welled up from all sides, which made my scattered thoughts focus back to the moment at hand as I coughed and rubbed at my smoking collar unsteadily, with my head swimming, but all too ready to throw down.

The space around me shook, a grin spreading across my face without me even being aware. It was activity, it was a rush, and it was _fun!_

And still the music pulsed, on and on and on... But of course, someone still had to come by and ruin my fun. Just my luck.

The heat in the stifling hall rose ever higher, sizzling embers falling from clenched fists, only for a armored fist to crash down across the back of the goat's head, bringing the drunken man to the floor before either of us could move.

"That's enough of that, _sir,_ " a deep voice intoned, it owner standing above the crumpled Iblis, dark skinned and with sharp features and shining yellow eyes; a cat's eyes. "And just so there's no more misunderstandings between us, it's _my_ party, Goat. _My_ Pack."

Swart Pantera. Decorated leader of one of the larger Packs in our Claw, despite being barely much older than I was. Not the most scheming, treacherous, arrogant waste of Faunus I'd ever laid eyes on, and I'd seen my fair share of the bureaucratic types High Leader Khan sent to petition Falkner and my father for their assistance.

When Iblis had gone down in flames almost literally, he'd left a wide open spot on the rock gleaming for every opportunist in The Pit that fancied themselves a potential APEX. A spot Pantera was looking to claim for himself.

 _'One he just got a lot closer to...'_

A glint from the pulsing lights flashed off the cracked visor of a dark-colored mask hanging off the other Faunus' belt, its face stained prominently with the crimson hand print insignia I knew so well, or at least I thought I did. I could see a similar mask burning in my mind just on the cusp of memory. A white-haired killer sparking with crackling energy...

"Look how far you've fallen, Luke. I look away for five minutes - _f_ _ive_ measly minutes - and next thing I know, here I find you embarrassing yourself. Embarrassing _me!_ We talked about this...!"

"Don't... _Agh!_ Don't think he's hearing you to well, Swart. Lucky him," I said angrily with a short shake to clear my head, and a pointed look at the unconscious Blood Hound, breathing a sigh as my half of the room - and more than a few loose objects - settled back to the ground, gravity reasserting itself. "Might wanna think about investing in a leash, maybe? At least then your bitches won't run off to cause trouble while you're busy preening!"

"Maxine Argus... I'm surprised to see you here," the Panther Faunus grinned broadly, exposing wickedly sharp incisors far larger than should have been possible. Bastard was looking at me as if he'd just remembered I was there, having overlooked me before. That dirty...! "Actually, no, it isn't, what with your group being shelved for clean-up, and all. It must be a shame to know the Commander wants to keep you so close. Safe, out of danger, away from the Brew... Such potential, a waste. Just like you."

...I wanted to hit him then. So, _so much!_ I wanted to snap him in half beneath my boot heel, hear the screams as he...!

"...not worth it!" A firm pressure on shoulder gave me pause, Cooper pulling me aside as Swart directed some of his own people to gather up Iblis before moving back to join the throng.

The drunk started to stir weakly, for his part, coughing out a weak tongue of flame that guttered out harmlessly against the stone floor, dragged away back to whatever creative punishment his Pack Leader had for him.

"Maxi, he isn't! Just breathe for a few seconds, and think! Be smart... _Maxi!_ " I shoved him back so hard he stumbled end over end across the table, landing in a heap next to where Marley lay smoking and pouting.

He shouted some more, his words lost over the blaring atonal rhythms and sound walls, and all the better for it.

I didn't feel like listening much at the moment, or being smart...

* * *

 _ **-Sonia Bordeaux-**_

"... _You!_ "

My back stiffened, both at the sudden exclamation, and the spindly finger jabbing itself in my face. Not even acknowledging the manic, golden-eyed man it was attached to dressed in white, and hunched in a crouch on the table before me, having leapt up the moment Madame Cinder had introduced us to the assembled group at large, motioning us from the edges of the room.

Or, more accurately, her aide Emerald had introduced us in her stead, Cinder herself still recovering from damages sustained in Vale during the fall, inflicted at the hands of Benjamin Carson and Ruby Rose.

It hurt seeing her, the woman who had aided and shown me so much, reduced to such a state. By those... those _fools,_ no less! A glorified rogue with delusions of grandeur, and a child ill fit for the responsibilities afforded her. Such a thing was galling. More than that, it was despicable! It _was...!_

Oh?

My hand was twitching again, a motion I stilled quickly enough. I would need another patch of medicine before long. Already I could feel the stiffness in my legs, the tremors in between my muscles and Aura respectively. Anger welled up in the back of my throat at the weakness, at the poor timing. Thankfully, I was able to hide the worst of my discomfort, Alexander interspersing himself between me and the strange individual with a grimace of offended disgust.

"Back off, freak!"

My teammate made to grab for the man's outstretched hand only for the crazed fool to duck past him under his arm, closing the distance faster than I could react and drawing in a deep breath.

"Oh my, oh my! How rude!"

A wide toothy grin splitting his skeletal features before he was gone with a cackle of purest glee, neatly leaping above Duo's charging bulk, the young man having sprang into action the second he'd seen him sidestep Alex, metal club in hand and a snarl on his lips.

" _Graaah!_ Get away from her!"

Cartwheeling through the air with inhuman grace, my assaulter vaulted back over the table, landing in a hunched crouch upon the very seat he'd originally vacated in the first place. Perfectly at ease, as though he wasn't staring down two trained Huntsmen with both their weapons now drawn and leveled at him, wary for any more signs of trouble.

Even Natalie had gone tense, hand moving for the holster in that ragged bag of hers, eyes darting between the exit and every face present throughout the room in quick succession, lingering on the mustachioed man dressed in a fine suit of refined make leaning forward in his seat, fingers steeped.

A subtle silvery Aura played off her in tiny motes of light that it almost seemed she struggled to contain, biting her lip so hard, it must have hurt.

For his part, he gave her a curt nod, one that sent her flinching back like she'd just been burned by the act.

 _'Cowardly. I'll have to take her aside later. Some discipline is in order.'_

Our new friend could care less for any and all of it. In fact, the so-called "Freak" seemed thrilled at the prospect of a fight, head cocked as he tapped the side of his head, still staring fixedly on me and me alone. It was... unsettling. And then that grin...

" _You!_ You smell strange. Oh yes, young lady. You do, indeed." I raised my nose at the wretch with a huff, not sure whether I should be shocked, offended, or angry. "Sweet, like... Springtime. Imagine that."

What madness was he spouting? " _Springtime?_ "

"But... perhaps a bit _too_ sweet, though?" He breathed in a long, over-exaggerated lungful of air, face quizzical as he brought his hands up in an exaggerated shrug. "Or rotten? A little hard to tell for sure."

"That, unfortunately, tends to be the problem with children," a richly accented voice welled from the gentleman, raising an eyebrow slowly at both Alexander and Edward, who still stood at the ready, waiting for my signal. "Nothing expressed in moderation, except for maybe sense. Cinder, dear, do at least try to keep your pets on a short leash, will you? Frankly, it's all a bit embarrassing."

That venom he projected at our Lady, the Fall Maiden uttering a low growl as the fingers of her hand... her good hand, curled into a tight shaking fist. "...!"

"What's that?" The well-dressed man brought a hand to his ear, leaning forward. "Oh dear, do remember to speak up now."

"How _dare_ you...!?"

I could remain silent no longer, not when they would insult a woman that had brought me so much to my face. I was a Huntress! This behavior would not stand! The rage burning behind my eyes, turning my blood cloying and hot beneath my skin, that lovely Song playing its gossamer tunes... Yet the fool was chuckling as though I were nothing, of no threat at all.

 _'...But I could show him different. Oh yes, I could show them all!...'_

A brief application of my abilities. Something that would teach these curs respect! Teach them to _ **feAr, tEaCh THeM tO**_...

" _Tyrian. Doctor Watts._ "

That voice - _her_ voice - put all thoughts of retribution and conflict to rest. It was spoken in a tone that brooked no refusal, and one that made the pair of men before me, and everyone else at the table, wince and stand straighter in their seats.

Tyrian actually did so, eyes fixed on his Mistress... _our_ Mistress, seated at the head of the table in robes seemingly drawn from the shadows themselves, contrasting sharply with the pale pallor of her flesh and hair and the vivid red of her veins and eyes.

Salem... Lady Salem... Our _Queen_ , I corrected myself harshly, biting the inside of my cheek for the impudence, my tongue tasting copper. The fire in my blood and heart ebbed, for now, composure returning.

 ** _"Back straight, face forward..._** ** _Back straight, face forward..._** ** _"_**

For those of us standing close by, the effect was far greater. Emerald and Mercury bowed their heads meekly on either side of our Lady Cinder, while my teammates all moved quickly away from the table, bringing their weapons down.

A few seconds more, and I remembered I could breathe again, clamping my mouth shut, enjoying the song... not looking at her. I didn't think I would be able to.

"That's enough. Remember, these are our guests." The pair murmured apologies, slumping like kicked dogs. Now wasn't that a pleasant? "Miss Bordeaux and her companions - these 'children' - have performed their tasks exquisitely these past few weeks. Work that will go a long way for our plans to proceed without interference."

"...!"

Cinder beckoned to Emerald, drawing her in close. The entire room fell woefully silent but for the subtle tittering snickers from Tyrian, and the gentle tapping as my companions shifted on their feet, still on edge. The Fall Maiden's mouth moved, her voice barely above a rasping whisper that Emerald, I could tell, strained her hardest to hear, before stepping back quickly, hands clasped before her respectfully.

"Cinder would like to remind us of Sonia Bordeaux's other talents, and those of her... team. Her unique abilities, and how they might be put to use, are a gift to us all."

I stood straighter, beaming with pride both in my team and in myself. She was right; of course she was! By turning the attentions of the Kingdoms against the those savages in the Frontier, fanning the flames of conflict, our Lady's efforts and those of our Queen could work that much more safely and efficiently.

"Some ' _gift._ ' From what we can tell, the girl can't even sense the Spring Maiden, much less grant us any sort of bearing on her location." My smile was gone in an instant, my whole demeanor bristling at Doctor Watt's amused manner. "Nor do we suspect can she do anything at all to replace the need for her presence in obtaining what we want from Haven."

"Be that as it may, it does not diminish the potential she possesses. Especially if plans to control or deal with the current Spring Maiden become... difficult." Salem rose in my defense, answering Watt's concerns patiently but sternly. "Maidens change, just like the Seasons they exemplify. Fall has... Perhaps the Spring might need to change as well."

The man was seemingly unwilling to argue with her, his face now examining me with a look of apprehensive curiosity, understanding the meaning his Mistress' words as clearly as I did.

Now, for the first time since she'd entered the room, I regarded the woman I served. Many might call her monstrous, others seeing little difference between her and the Creatures of Grimm, which was not an unfair assumption given her apparent connection to them.

But her vision... Her plans for the world, and the changes she planned to enact...

 _'And I might still serve.'_

And not just as a knife in the dark, fulfilling her will, but in a capacity much like Lady Cinder. A Maiden, those mythical creatures I would have thought unbelievable if I hadn't seen the proof of the Fall Maiden clearly before my eyes. Wielding magic - _true_ magic - and not the paltry imitations born through Dust.

 _'To wield such power... I could do so much! I could...!'_

"Though, dear Sonia, remember that none of this is guaranteed, and that you are still new to our number. I expect you to act appropriately." The chastisement rankled, but I said nothing, giving nothing more away than the acceptance of my error. Of my assumptions... "Watt's comments and your accomplishments and usefulness aside, do endeavor to assist in keeping things civil in future. We have business to discuss, and I won't brook violence. Not now, not today."

A classic play that hurt sweetly in its simplicity. To build one up, only to cut them off at the knees before they could grow smug, enforcing authority. I would learn. I would be _like her, I would...!_

"Yes, my Queen... Of course, you're right. My deepest apologies for the disruption." I knelt in a perfect curtsy, smiling at the pair, and bowing my head in a dignified show of acquiescence. "Your praise means a lot to myself and the rest of SAND. We serve at your pleasure." Watt's scoffed, but once more shirked back from his Master's steely inhuman gaze.

"Is that so?..." Natalie shifted at the Queen's words, whimpering under her breath despite herself. Disgusting... "You would move against those that oppose me? All of you?"

"Of course!"

I straightened with an eager nod, the image of grace and confidence, my comrades flanking me on either side. Edward was slouching, however, and Alexander would of course need to learn to relax in proper company. Lessons for a later time. They were strong, proper pawns...

"Our skills are yours, for whatever it is you require of us. Whatever the challenge."

"...Excellent." Salem - Lady Salem - smiled once more with an expression that was neither motherly nor dismissive, and neither kind nor cruel. " _Most_ excellent."

Edward and Alexander stiffened at my sides in the face of such a sight, perhaps some shared instinct giving them pause. It was something ancient, something bigger than myself. Something _inhuman..._ Cinder bit her lip, seemingly conflicted over something. I couldn't be sure. Why would she be dismayed? Her efforts were being recognized, her contributions to the cause being lauded before her...

"Tyrian, I think we've found some willing allies in your little 'hunts.'" The strange man, this Tyrian, was giggling now, nodding his approval while looking us over with the air of a spider gazing upon its prey... or perhaps a scorpion. "They should prove quite useful, and free you to pursue more pressing matters."

I was no longer listening. Not really... My head nodding in time to the tune, foot tapping, fists flexing...

SAND would go further. _I_ would go further... The _Song_ picked up, as if in anticipation now, eager to prove myself superior.

Superior to everyone. Superior to the way I used to be...

Superior to _HER_...

* * *

 _ **-Maxine Argus-**_

"Hey! Hit me with one of those."

I held out a hand towards the huddle of Hounds lingering towards the back of the mess hall, the quartet speaking and muttering in hushed tones among themselves. Lien and other small shiny trinkets of value covertly shifted hands with every murmur of agreement. And in their place - and this bunch was trying real hard to hide this bit - syrettes linked to minuscule blue vials that could be swiftly stowed away.

Or they had, until I'd marched up and started up a conversation.

Now they were just staring at me with glazed eyes and dim expressions on faces marked by horns, stripes, and other attributes.

Maybe they hadn't heard me, whether because of the song in the room or the Song in their heads. Wouldn't be the first time I'd had to repeat myself to get through to one hearing the Butcher's Song.

Sometimes, I even had to rub Marley's face in the dirt before she'd calm down and start listening again. Fun times...

"I _said_ hit me up." I shook the proffered hand for emphasis, flashing my teeth when none of them moved to respond, or move at all. "Well!? What's the damn holdup!? Hand one over!"

"You're... You're Argus?" The leader in the group, seeing as he was the one shilling out from a pack affixed to his waist, said in a hoarse rasp, scaled frills flexing nervously on either side of his puffy cheeks. "You're Maxine Argus!"

"Oh, _really!?_ Thank you, I wasn't fucking aware!"

I advanced a step closer, the whole group backing off now like scared kittens, which frankly freaked me the hell out. These were Blood Hounds, long serving ones at that, going by the way their jowls and fingers twitched every so often, and that wasn't even counting the smell.

I was already breathing through my mouth now, wary of any sudden moves.

The Butcher's sweet scent wafted off them almost like a palpable cloud or Aura. So much so, I was a little amazed I wasn't gagging, or picking up some kind of contact high from the aroma. _'Maybe it is...'_ Not like I'd notice, my mind swaying under the effects of the drinks and stims I'd used to get me to this point, to work up the sheer nerve.

"Give me one!"

"Can't. Not supposed to."

"'Not supposed to!?'" A barking laugh tore itself from my throat at the excuse, and at the poor stupid bastard making it. The grunt's face flushed slightly, slit eyes glancing at his fellows for some kind of support, and finding none. "You're shitting me, right!? How many vials have you been skimming in there alone? That your stash, or did you skim the Brew off a body?"

The latter option. Right on the mark, if the twitch in his brow said anything at all. Not the first time I'd heard of something like this happening, after all.

Falkner might like to pretend she had every drop of Butcher's Brew carefully cataloged and portioned out, but with a substance like that - and the chaos of a good scrap - things were bound to slip through the cracks. Blood Hounds fell on missions all the time, bodies unable to be recovered. Either that, or they inevitably went overboard.

"Guessing you've got it covered up pretty well, huh? Sure, we both know what would've happened by now if the good doctor had figured you out."

"Y-you wouldn't...!" There was fear there, now. Real fear showing through his high, and enough to send a shiver of warmth coursing electrically down my spine at the man's discomfort, followed by a touch of unease myself. "Ya ain't that much of a twist!"

"Maybe I will... Maybe I won't, if ya get me." I overcame the knot in my stomach, tacking on my best attempt at a wicked grin. Hardly my best work, but doped as they were and scared out of their wits, I didn't exactly need much in the way of convincing. Not with that sort of threat hanging over them. " _Do_ ya get me?"

Once. I and the other hopefuls had been told only once what would happen if one of our number ever lied to the good doctor, the woman coming in to explain it herself when she'd first given Marley and Cooper their hard-cases, doses included. What should happen if we ever slipped, ever deviated from the carefully structured she made unique to every individual. What would happen if we couldn't regulate...

That had been a wake-up call. Up until then, I'd only seen her as this eccentric busybody, the woman set to keep an eye on me during my recovery, charged with keeping a hold on the Blood Hound's leash. Learning she actually _liked_ to get her hands dirty had been an... illuminating experience. And a _terrifying_ one.

"Fine!... Fine, I get you. I get you!" Fins spluttered, scrambling through the bag's contents hastily, cursing to himself. Heard a few choice words, creative insults I'd file away for use later, but for the moment, my attention was solely fixed on the syrette clutched between his fingertips.

The contents swirling within were not the cheap garish pink or purple swill I was used to, but the purest blue. A jewel shimmering even amidst the flashing lights. The Butcher's Brew...

"Sure you can regulate?... You can regulate, right? You're fresh, aren'tcha? I mean, if you don't, we're all...!?"

" _Fresh._ " Just the description set me growling, ears flush to my scalp. First Iblis, then Swart, now them... And Dad, too!

"Yes, 'course I can regulate, shitheel! Now cough it up!"

That certainly got him moving, especially once my Semblance snatched the delicate injector from his hand, and brought it to mine with a heady snap, the others shrinking back nervously at the display.

Didn't matter. I was used to the looks - the fear - by now. I even enjoyed it most of the time. It made me stand out, and showed I was unique. But this... I wasn't used to this.

Not the injector, of course. I'd lost my nervousness of needles within the first few weeks of joining APEX's forces... But not of what lay within.

This wasn't just any stimulant, a rumble drug designed to bump up my aggression or boost my Aura. It was something _more..._ And then came the hesitation, the moment of doubt as I brought the needle down, only to pause, hovering over the skin of my wrist.

Images of what I'd seen, of others who'd made use of the Butcher before...

Memories of Cooper, witty and always grinning, covered in crimson, stabbing into a fallen Atlesian again, and again... Of Marley, already erratic and irascible at the best of times, frothing at the mouth and roaring, charging a horde of Grimm without a shred of fear, worry, or thought of self-preservation... Of my Dad, smiling and laughing with Mom, like he used to, and the distant looks he always seemed to have nowadays, lost to the Butcher's Song, whatever that was...

That thing no one could ever seem to agree on how to describe...

Now, here I was, about to do the same. To make the same sacrifice they had to get back at the Humans, and do some good for our people... And I wasn't sure I _could._ Why did I want this? Why did I push so hard, despite these doubts...?

 ** _"AcCEpTaNce... LoVe... pRiDE..."_** The words coursed through my mind, spurring me on, forgotten moments later as heat built behind my eyes, my skull on fire. **" _StrENgth... PrOTect..."_**

Yeah... Yeah, I _wanted_ this. Of course I did. Why wouldn't I?

It would make me stronger, more powerful... Able to protect my friends on Team... Team...? Protect who?... Who? My Pack? Yeah, my Pack, definitely!

Thankfully, the appearance of my father over my shoulder saved me the trouble of decoding the mental slip - of deciding - though I liked to think I would've managed it in the end.

This godsdamn room. Stupid party messing with my senses, everyone sneaking up on me...

" _Get lost, all of you! Before I bother putting names to faces!_ "

He pulled my arm back, twisting my wrist painfully, and forcing the syrette from my hand. The tiny vial clattered to the ground, visible a moment longer before the Canine Faunus smashed it under his heavy boot heel, turning to regard the still-quivering lot once more.

" _GO._ " He didn't have to make it a command then. He also didn't shout. That only made it worse.

I could almost feel the sympathetic urge to move, to get away from the source. Every instinct I had begged for me to flee. So much so, I could hardly breathe...

Fins had the sense to drop his precious incriminating cargo as he went, the Commander stooping low to pick it up, and hauling me along with him by the arm. "Ack, hey, lemme go! Dad, you're...!?"

" _Commander._ " I gulped audibly, protests dying in my throat at the gaze he leveled me with. Disappointment so keen, I was glad I'd left my Pack Mates behind, glad the dancers remained unaware, even now, the disappointment of a father. "Do you realize how _stupid_ that was!? What you were risking!?"

"I... I-I...!" I couldn't speak, my voice hoarse and rasping.

"No, of course you don't." My father shook his head, not looking at me anymore... "Gets herself a pair of bodies to call a Pack, and the Pup thinks she knows everything."

...But when did he ever look at me? Hardly, ever since I'd told him I was intent on joining up with the Blood Hounds, unless it was some reprimand or those all too brief moments of lucidity? Even before I'd woken up, that reunion in the medical ward, he'd been awkward, delicate. Things were different than how I remembered them. There was a distance between us.

 _He_ was different, but this was the same.

 _'Treating me like glass, ready and waiting to break under the slightest ounce of pressure...!'_

"You're going back to your room, and then we'll...! We'll discuss this later," he added after a brief hesitation, spitting the command from gritted teeth before muttering to himself, something about "boundaries," but the sound of Mom's name made me blink, the words almost as if he'd meant them for her. " _Now,_ young lady! That's an _order!_ " He tugged at me insistently, dragging me a few faltering steps.

Sending me to my room?... He was _actually_ sending me to my room like some kid he didn't want to deal with!

"...Look at me." He pulled me again, only this time, I planted my feet hard enough to stop him in his tracks. " _Look at me!_ " His ears twitched visibly, a shocked expression flitting across his pale features as he turned, grimacing at the defiant gleam in my eye, turning away again. "Do you... Do you really not trust me?"

"And I'm supposed to? After what I just found you doing?"

"You were following me! Don't pretend like you just happened on by! I'm not an idiot!"

"Could have fooled me. Extorting a dead man's stock of the Butcher from some mindless grunt? This is _exactly_ why I was against you joining the ranks! Playing out this phase..."

"At least you admit it!" I tugged back, refusing to be led around, standing my ground despite the growing ache in my wrist that he seemed quite unaware of. "What are you so afraid of!? It's a tool! One I'm supposed to be learning how to use! Everyone here knows how to use it! _You_ do! Everyone does, except me! Why!?"

"What am I afraid of? Why?" His bandaged finger lifted slowly, motioning to the barely visible stain on the floor surrounding the shattered glass. "You weren't ready, Maxi. You _aren't_ ready! How many times do I have to repeat myself before the message sinks in, because I _know_ you can hear me!"

"Tell me why, then!" I cried, trying to pull my arm away, even my Semblance struggling to pry his grip loose, until he finally released me of his own accord. It wasn't anger I felt, and even now the shame was melting away into indignation, confusion... "When am I going to be ' _ready,_ ' huh!? What's the requirement!? What do the rest of you have that I don't!?"

"A father that doesn't want to see his child become a monster like the rest of them!" I blinked, feeling like I'd just taken a punch from Marley's arm, stomach reeling at the anguished scent coming off the other Faunus. "Falkner pushes and pushes, saying how strong you'll be, a benefit to the cause, as if I cared! Sienna Khan herself could walk in here and try to give you the needle herself, and I'd _still_ tear the tigress apart!" And he would, too. I could see it in his eyes, the surety of simple purpose. "You're not touching the Brew. Not so long as I breathe!"

He tried to hide his expression behind the fatherly rage, standing tall and unyielding despite the treasonous talk... but it was a shell, and a weak one at that.

Conan Argus couldn't hide... Not from me.

I'd been right... Damn it, I'd been right this whole time!...

"...That a another order, sir?" I said calmly, standing up straight, and looking him in the face even if he wouldn't... or couldn't. "From who exactly? Conan Argus the APEX, or Conan Argus the Dad? It's a bit unclear, lately!"

"Excuse me?"

"'No special treatment because of who I am.' That was the rule _YOU_ set for me! The one rule that I agreed to, all because I wanted to prove I was capable. To you, and to everyone else! I followed that fucking rule, but you haven't! It's like I'm on some damn leash!" I should stop while I was ahead. Just take the punishment, and head back to my room like a good... "So you know what!? You might as well choose now, sir! Either you can be my father, and pretend like I'm not a big girl now and still need you to protect me. Least then when you try to keep me tied down and locked away like some scared puppy, you'll be doing it to my face, rather than letting me ' _play_ ' at being a Blood Hound!"

Silence fell like a shroud, the disparity with the ear-shattering music playing only a few yards away only highlighting the shift between us. "Maxine, I didn't mean it like that! I-I just...!"

" _Or...!_ " I turned around, half expecting him to catch hold or order me to stop. To be fair, I wasn't sure if I'd be able to resist. "Or, you can act like my commander, and treat me like the rest of the people I've fought so hard to earn my place with, kiddy gloves off!" I needed to leave, needed to get away. "Better hurry up and pick one, 'cause let me tell ya, you _don't_ get to play at being both! It _doesn't_ work like that!... Those were your words, too."

...Running again. Why did it always have to feel like I was running!?

I didn't need the judgement. I didn't need the disappointment/ I didn't need little paintings in my head of things I just wanted to... forget. Without even looking, I snatched hold of a passerby's mug, suffering maybe two seconds of growling before cuffing him in the nose, and sending him scurrying at the sight of me. Or maybe it was who I'd been talking to. I couldn't care less, downing the bitter swill in a few hasty gulps.

I just wanted to forget. If even for just a moment...

* * *

" _Uwaaagh!?_ "

Cerise almost jumped out of her skin, twitching as I shouldered my way into her. Not too hard, of course, but forcefully enough to disrupt the undulating rhythm the pounding beat demanded to get her attention.

Probably not necessary. Despite the mob crowding the dance floor the Spider Faunus had managed to carve out a little niche for herself in which to enjoy the night. A small space of a few feet that may as well have been a whole other world.

The others were, perhaps wisely, wary of approaching her. Of getting to close to the Alpha... But not me. Not tonight, anyway.

"W-who the fu...!? M-Maxi? Are you...?"

I nodded slowly, barely managing to make out her startled syllables over the music. The sporadic tempo drilled its way into my skull, and discarding everything else. Anger, worries, inhibitions, all of it sloughed away as I bounced on the balls of my feet, letting the cadence take me. The whole a world was awash of colors, scents, and sensations aplenty...

It was incredible, and... And she was talking to me, now, craning her head about the dance floor. _Focus!_

"...ou okay? Thought I might've heard Iblis being naughty again, and you know how that fire-brained dummy can b...!?"

Her dark eyes, all eight of them, went wide, impossibly so.

It might've been how close I'd managed to get to her without her picking up on it, using the sound to mask my approach, which, ironically, was the same trick others had been using all night on me. It could've been the way I snatched hold of her lean muscled arms suddenly, applying just enough pressure that I knew it would sting.

Or maybe even the kiss I planted fully on her lips.

 _'Yeah, probably was the kiss...'_

I hummed, half in amusement and half in the sheer feeling of the moment. My tongue probing past that momentary flash of shock and bewilderment, meeting hers as the other Faunus swiftly melted into what might almost might have been considered an embrace, if entirely lacking the chaste innocence the word implied.

The initial awkwardness passed swiftly then, the two of us working naturally to find a pattern to the movement that I valiantly attempted to dominate.

She had more experience, that was clear from the outset, seizing hold the initiative, and guiding my hands and mind along to where it needed to be, relenting to my nervous fumbling advances with frankly terrifying enthusiasm. Enthusiasm I was eager to match, uncaring of who saw.

On instinct - unsure exactly why I did it, though the impulse was impossible to resist - I caught hold of her lip as we made to break apart for some much needed oxygen, biting sharply, and rejoicing in the low moan of pain mixed with pleasure my partner exuded, grinning confidently, and admiring the blushing figure of Charlotte in my arms.

The way she panted and licked at the cut on her lip, looking shocked, excited.

Heat coursed through me like liquid fire, warming my face and limbs in ways I hadn't... But I _had_ felt this before, hadn't I? I frowned, chasing the shadow of... something, or _someone,_ and almost catching hold...

...But it was fruitless. The shade vanished through my fingers like smoke, just as the others had every time before, the specifics lost in a haze of half-remembered images and scents I could almost taste even now.

This one especially...

 _'...Oil, gunpowder, and... and apples?'_

Something was off, but I had didn't exactly have time to dwell on the fact, knocked from my reverie, literally, with my cheek aching and my head spinning.

I almost lost my balance, and stumbled towards the stomping feet on the edge of our little slice of heaven, only to be saved at the last possible moment. Drawn back into arms that felt like they could break me with a nary an effort or thought, descending back into the spider's web.

Charlotte's face had taken on a newer, heartier glow than before, sharpened fangs flashing from a wicked grin I knew I recognized.

The same she had worn when that Laura bastard had caught her off guard, taking her by surprise. When she'd taken him apart piece by... Oh.

Uh-oh...

Suddenly, I was left wondering if this had been such a wonderful idea after all, a mewling squeak I'd never heard before or even thought possible spilling from my lips involuntarily as I felt long fingers weave themselves through my hair and take hold of the back of my neck, guiding my face slowly towards hers almost tenderly.

Excitement gleamed in her eyes as she regarded me like a morsel. Like prey...

"That was _fun,_ " she whispered in my ear softly, voice absent its usual airy quality, her tone low and forceful as it overrode everything else. " _My turn!_ "

* * *

 _-_ END

* * *

 **-OC Voice Cast Introduced this Chapter -**

Swart Pantera - Khary Payton

* * *

 _ **A/N: Man that was a bit of a break, bit longer than I intended, but these next few months are sort've the hell period for my work. Gotta get those hours, and I've had less energy and time to sit down and write.**_

 _ **As for the chapter we got a look in on SAND and what they're up too, Joel stumbles on something he really shouldn't have, and Maxine had herself some fun after a rough night.**_

 _ **For those wondering about that last bit, Max's preference is more for excitement and power, which Charlotte has in abundance even if it's not exactly stable. Demisexual I think the term is, feel free to correct me on that one, please.**_

 _ **Smartest thing she's ever gotten herself involved with, probably not, but she knows her Dad probably hates it. At least she isn't currently dosing up on the Butcher's Brew, the real stuff anyway.**_

 ** _Here's hoping I'll be back on a semi-regular schedule in a short while. In the meantime I hope you enjoy, only gets crazier from here.-Mojo1586_**

* * *

 ** _(Next Chapter: Things keep catching up to our Huntsman. Dreams and unexpected guests.)_**


	16. Chapter 16

_**Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_

* * *

ALBION

* * *

 ** _-Joel Ambrose-_**

" _Hah!"_

A thundering whip * _CRACK*_ and another of the screeching Grimm was struck from the air minus its slavering distended maw, its spindly winged body crashing down heavily upon the snowy ground and vanishing moments later in a flurry of frost, thrashing limbs, and dissolving dark matter.

' _Chiropterans..._ '

A particularly nasty variety of nocturnal Grimm that appeared the horrid amalgamation of man and bat with little truly resembling either or except perhaps the shape, though from what I recalled the Kingdoms tended to refer to them as ' _Gargoyles_ '.

This particular clutch of nightmares had apparently been troubling the few traders courageous enough to brave the journey to remote Akai-Hana, harrying the ill-protected caravans and garnering a rather sizable bounty.

One that, as the only Huntsman in the area, had seen me playing a tricky game of cat and mouse for the last two days in the freezing cold hoping to draw the scavengers in...and now I had.

Fangs near the size of my forearm, claws that could rend a victim apart in seconds, and great pinions sprouting from its back that allowed it to sail along the cool night eddies near silently and snatch up prey unawares.

 _'Near silently, that was the word for it...'_

Because unluckily for them, I'd heard the monsters coming long before their blazing red orbs appeared, their hunched forms leaping from the barren treetops and falling towards me. As that fallen Grimm and several of its camp had learned the hard way.

With no time to celebrate the kill, I was beset again, this one larger and cleverer than its fellows. A feint from one clawed appendage saw me moving too early to knock away an attack that didn't come, instead the flat of one wing buffeting me across the face like a sucker punch to the jaw, putting stars blinking in my vision.

Honed instinct and experience saved me then, my leg collapsing underneath me just in time to avoid a swipe that'd have taken my head from my shoulders.

Though I didn't escape entirely unscathed, my eyes blinking clear just in time to see a bone white claw catch across the end of my trailing scarf lightly before passing overhead. Gritting my teeth, I rolled back, clutching at the edges and sparing the length of soft blue and silver fabric a worried glance, catching sight of the tiny split in the fibers of the reinforced material.

" _Tysh ed!"_ A curse spilled from my lips as much reflexively as my escape maneuver had been, numb fingers thumbing the damage, giving way to sparks crackling between fingertips.

Meanwhile the Grimm eased back on its haunches, prepping for another lunge, jaws working in hissing excitement at the prospect of the kill. If it had seen the look on my face, I'd like to think it might've reconsidered. As it was it leapt for me, claws glistening in a plume of thawing snow.

Snarling despite myself, I snatched hold of _Storm Song's_ reel line and weaved past a pair of jagged nails that sailed right through the loop I'd just made in the wire. pulled the line taught with all the strength I could muster and as fast as reflex would carry me, snapping the ring closed and trapping the limb.

"This was _hers_... **You Soulless Bastard!"**

I will admit to seeing just a hint of red, if only for a few moments. Memories of flashing crimson, of a golden hued figure crashing to the floor, bereft of a piece of her...Adam... ** _Adam Taurus..._**

My victim had time to maybe hiss a surprised high pitched shriek, one that only made what I was about to do that much more pressing if it would shut it up.

Grunting, I brought the beast somersaulting over my shoulder and onto its back with the momentum of its own lunge with a hard crash, ice crystals exploding against my Aura in a blinding flurry of tangling.

Stunned, all it could do was lay there helpless while I twisted myself around and about to constrict its movements, snapping the double jointed arm I held like a twig with no small amount of relish, slamming a sparking fist once, twice, three times into its face.

"This! Was! Hers!"

The last blow a palm strike that I kept pressed snug to its temple, fingers digging into pale bone blate. A brief but satisfying flash of crackling cobalt electricity and a bit of wild spasming was all it would've taken to cook the monster all the way down to its spiteful nerve endings. And went far further than even that.

Taut leathery flesh flaking away by the time I was finished with the Grimm. Dissolving once the Chiropteran stopped twitching, finally realizing it was already dead.

" **Alright**...alright, who's next?"

Easing my Semblance back into dormancy with a heady sigh, I snapped my attentions back to the few Grimm remaining, the survivors apparently more than willing to cut losses and abandon their fellow to flee back into the wilderness.

I'd been expecting a fight, banking on it, but I'd been a bit too forceful. Too showy...

" _Tysh ed!"_ The accented curse spilled once again from my lips without thinking, a hand swiftly clapping to the side of my head painfully a moment later at the slip. "Damn it, enough of this."

Snapping _Storm Song's_ corded hitch back into its compact baton form with a thunderous crack and a spray of snow and hissing sparks, I leveled the spiked silver tip in the direction of the fleeing beasts, firing off the line once more and allowing it to carry me deep into the tree tops in pursuit.

Icy hail-strewn winds snapping against the folds of my jacket, body twisting to avoid jagged branches leaping out of the darkness, guided purely by the far off shrieks and soft beating of wings as my quarry drew further and further away.

At this rate, I was going to lose them in the rapidly falling darkness, unhindered by the trees as they were while I had to waste time navigating and mentally comparing my route.

 _'Blast it, if I don't pick up the pace myself, I'd have to...Huh?'_

Hesitating, I reached out to catch the outlying limb of a sturdy oak tree, velocity twisting my bulk up and over into a crouch weapon drawn and head twitching to and fro. Drawing in a deep breath, the faint scent of burnt wood and old blood on the air amidst the usual mossy murk gave me a heartbeat's pause. The Gargoyles reluctantly forgotten for the moment, I fell back down to the ground, practiced senses turned towards the task of following the new trail.

The source of the disturbing aroma easy enough to pin down after a few minutes of tense searching...it wasn't exactly hidden.

Shattered tree trunks rent by blade and even more worryingly pockmarked with what looked to be bullet holes. Charred craters blown into the ground evidence of explosives detonated in rapid succession, Dust residue sparking or crackling with residual elemental forces that mingled with the scent of waste and violence.

Brow furrowing even further, I knelt down low to scoop up the cracked remains of an all too familiar mask, molded in such a way as to mimic the creatures of Grimm, this one splattered with its own fair share of brown tinged crimson.

 _'White Fang...'_

A tremor of something dark coursed through me at the sight of that mask, the cause it represented...I reflexively crushed it in a gloved hand as an afterthought, letting the ceramics fall back to the ground in pieces. White Fang, all the way out here in the middle of nowhere, and not just lurking about either.

 _'Of course when did they ever need a reason?'_

Regardless, whatever had happened here it'd been nasty. The fighting fierce and up close, the erratic patterns to the bullets speaking of surprise and panic on the part of the defenders.

They'd been caught off guard, at least a dozen well armed and well equipped Faunus, despite the night vision and heightened senses of their kind. That was troubling...but not as much as what I discovered at the furthest edges of the battlefield.

A lone tree in the bog, untouched by the apparent carnage surrounding it, and carved across its trunk for all to see was a sign. Roughly spherical, wreathed by curved etchings no doubt meant to evoke a beast's maw, a full moon, surrounded by fangs.

Despite those minor stylistic differences, the similarity to the symbol patched to the shoulder of my own jacket would've still proven uncanny. The intentions behind it obvious, that symbol...

* * *

"...a warning?" Liz furrowed her brow at that, propping herself atop the workbench set against the wall of the ramshackle storage shed, staring at me intently as struggled stubbornly against a particularly stubborn bolt set within _Thunder's_ chassis.

The motorbike Yang had helped me design broken down into various sections, the varied pieces laid out in rows before me as I tried to work them back into something resembling working order, the weeks and shifting seasons since Beacon and leaving Vale having been rather rough on the poor machine. Modifications would have to be made, costly and difficult given the conditions out here, another headache.

Of course my mood wasn't helped much either by the company my partner asking essentially the same thing she already had half a dozen times before over the course of my story, interrupting and posing it in different or more subtle ways.

Seeing as I'd gone to the same lessons in interrogation techniques, both the blatantly brutal and to the point tactics of the Red Hand's instructors and the more creative mind games courtesy of one Fortuna Marigold, I wasn't exactly thrilled.

"You're sure, absolutely positive?"

"Yes! For the last time, I know what I'm talking about!" I spat back in exasperation, cursing aloud as the socket wrench warped, snapping down the middle with a loud *clang* that left us both wincing. "Safehold's clans, their warriors...Hunters I suppose you'd call them, carve similar signs to mark out their paths for others, or indicate their camp's territory." That earned a vague half-nod of understanding from the former Trapper, and a renewed flicker of concern, evidently thinking along the same lines of reasoning I had. "Thinking its more symbolic, nothing I found suggests they could've had more than maybe half a dozen with them at most."

Mistral wasn't in such dire straits, at least not yet anyway...

"That's still half a dozen problems we need to consider." Briar commented, nestling further into the thick cloak we'd draped over her shoulders, brow furrowing in thought and the barest flicker of pain. "Lovely, just lovely."

Even that sparse amount of contact irritated her branding sites and according to her she hardly needed it regardless, which was true enough I supposed given the sweat beading on both our brows. The heat her brands let off, even covered up as they were, was almost palpable in such a confined space, but it was necessary. They hadn't asked too many questions, but surely our gracious hosts might object if I allowed an injured, half naked young woman out into the cold, despite said young woman's own insistence.

"So, guessing that's why you're finally messing around with this heap of junk, then?" She motioned a foot towards the engine cap in my hand, then about at the rest of the vehicular debris. "Should I be worried?" 'Were they coming this way?' she'd meant to say, but her pride never would've allowed it, 'Were we in danger?'.

"No idea, the fight was a few days done by the time I got there. Entirely possible they came for the Fang then passed Akai-Hana by, if they even realized it was out here to begin with." Sadly I didn't have much to offer her aside from half-hearted reassurances, but it was something. Not much, but something. "Still, it pays to be prepared. If we have to leave in a hurry, I'd rather not have it be on foot."

And with Liz's arms still out of commission and her endurance shot, I'd have to come up with a means to keep her on the bike at speed. A side car maybe...oh she'd love that about as much as I'd like having to put it together.

 _'Nothing I can't handle, nothing I can't endure...'_

I drew in a deep meditative breath, loosing my hold on frustration and instead focusing my attentions on the still stubborn bolt, closing my eyes. It was difficult, but soon enough I could feel the rhythm of my Semblance falling in step with my breathing and the near silent, if ever-present, song that seemed to play at the back of my conscious mind.

 _'...discomfort cannot triumph over discipline, pain cannot overcome focus...'_

Liz stiffened from what I could make out, reacting to the sound of sparks coursing along my bared forearms but said nothing of the display, the telltale thrum of energy coursing down my arms that neither hurt nor soothed, as if my nerves had been set alight.

 _'...the mind is a fortress, a fortress of iron...no...of Silver, malleable yet unrelenting...'_

With a spur of will, I directed the Auratic current of electricity like dam guiding a stream, ending it along my wrists to the tips of my fingers, from there it was an even further effort to send them further into the chunk of metal and more specifically...the entire piece juddered in my hand suddenly, vibrating sporadically though I maintained my grip and my composure.

The song growing louder now, and though it was hardly comfortable, it was far more bearable than my other attempts to practice this over the last few days. Inspiration motivating me to adapt my Semblance, my Gift, in ways I'd never thought possible.

Though I owed this particular pursuit more to a fallen friend, seeing as she'd been the reason I'd attempted to refine this 'talent' in the first place.

Slowly, inexorably, the bolt began to turn on its own with a grind of straining steel. Groove by groove it loosened its bite until with a slight whistling *keen* it popped free of its housing, smoking as grit and grime burned away to vaporous powder under the electrical ministrations. Liz humming her approval of the show, fidgeting in her seat as her brands reacted in sympathy.

"Huh? Neat little trick."

"Thanks, work in progress, but I'm finally getting somewhere with it."

 _'Thanks, Pyrrha, I owe you again.'_

Painfully, blessedly, I released my hold on my Semblance with a somber grunt of triumph, allowing it to return to some pretense of dormancy. My body tingling with the excess charge caught by the limiting implants set under my skin.

I'd have to be careful, but it was a success regardless.

 _'Now, back to the matter at hand.'_

 _"_ We might have to leave in a hurry, and if we do, we'll be ready."

"Marigold told us to wait until he made contact. That was the plan, Joel." She sounded nervous at the prospect of breaking from the plan. Not just any plan, Marigolds. Still...

"Sure, but _'Plans are ever changing'_ after all, Rule#7 right?" I quoted our Teacher back to her face with a wry grin, grabbing at another piece and setting to work the more conventional way this time. My trick came in handy, but there still quite a bit of mental and Auratic strain involved until I refined it further, the effort painful and difficult and... "Besides, what happened to ' _Getting back on the road_ '? Thought you hated it out here, too 'rustic'."

"Sure, it's just I'd prefer we leave on our own terms." The young woman said, glancing at her arms and the bandages visible beneath the cloak. "I hate the thought of running away again, hiding scared, done that enough for one lifetime."

"Yeah, I know the feeling."

The reply was genuine, the both of us sharing a brief but comfortable smile before I returned to my task and she to hers, reaching out with her feet to grab at Marigold's journal and deposit it in her lap, thumbing through the worn and yellowed pages with trembling fingers.

That was a good sign, it meant she was improving, even if every motion seemed to cause her pain and no end of grief, she fought on regardless. My partner...my ally, endured, just like I was...

 _'Nothing I can't handle, nothing I can't endure...'_

I repeated the mantra relentlessly, glancing down at the tool I'd made to pick up before withdrawing it and returning to the part. Once again retreating inward to take hold of the current once more, allowing it to run down my arm and flow through steel.

Liz was doing her best, growing stronger in the face of the odds before us. I had to strive to do the same in whatever way I could.

Who knew? Perhaps I'd have need of new tricks in the coming days ahead.

Who could blame me for a little time spent practicing?

Certainly not...

* * *

 ** _-Asagi Azeri-_**

" _Hmmph!"_

The hissing grunt of annoyance spilled from my lips on sheer reflex, a response to the renewed peals of hearty laughter and cheers rising up from the center of a small group of onlookers taking up space in the heart of the tavern.

All of them crowding a small table around which a rather uncharacteristically intense game of cards was unfolding, a sweating Mido wiping at his forehead nervously while his opponent sat, as cool and calm as the falling snow outside.

Sienna Mason, the beautiful foul mouthed harpy that Thom had dragged along with him that first terrible night when he'd literally stumbled upon our door step, injured and half lucid from terrible wounds. Of which I'd only half seen, and understood even less, from my short glimpses as I assisted the young woman with minor tasks such as dressing and bathing.

 _'So strange...'_

Of course, neither she nor Thom had seen fit to explain those particular circumstances leading up too or before their rather abrupt arrival, despite Miss Anbā's best efforts to wheedle the details from the pair. And that was fine to most, such people drifted into Akai-Hana every so often.

The settlement's remote nature a tantalizing attraction to many types, and as such we locals had long since learned the point at which to stop prying. It was the reality of such a place, people came and went all the time and most learned to leave it at that.

Some sought to make a new life for themselves away from the hustle and bustle of Mistral and its outlying cities, just as others wished to avoid the crime and seedier realities I'd heard were so prevalent behind the scenes, and still there were those for which our little outpost of mankind was simply a stopping point on a longer journey.

The elders of the village of which included the Mayor and, though no one would dare to call her an 'elder' of any sort to her face, Mistress Anbā herself who many saw and turned to as a leader regardless, had their say and opinions of course.

Thom had proven himself and more as both a hard worker to those that needed him, and an even more precious resource and benefit as a Huntsman-for-hire, clearing Grimm that endangered the countryside for little to no compensation in return, until recently anyway.

 _'His roommate's influence, I'm sure. That's the only explanation...'_ I thought, face reddening as I looked at the Huntsman shaking his head at his charge's antics. His hair messy about his grinning face, lit up in the moment.

Of Sienna herself the older crowd had little opinion one way or the other, the girl was otherwise a mystery in all respects. Content to stay cooped up in their shared room and brood in perfect contrast to Thomas Braun's apparent willingness to branch out and interact with the town at large, at least until now...

 _'Did she have to pick today of all days to come out!?'_

She couldn't have known I was going to ask him, how could she?

With the turn of the season so close, Winter rapidly falling to Spring, preparations for the Festival of Lights could soon begin. One of the few times of the year when it usually wasn't cold or rainy, a time when the surrounding forest's trees would bloom into scores of colors that the winds would carry through the air amidst the light of every lantern in the town.

A time for new beginnings and what I'd hoped my be a chance to snag the Huntsman for good. Convince him perhaps that staying in Akai-Hana on a more permanent basis might be worth it.

 _'Or maybe he could take me with him.'_

That was also an option, one born of growing up in a small village with few people my age, and having seen what was likely to be the majority of everything I would probably ever see.

But Thom, he had so many stories even filtered through his own delightfully humble demeanor, a Huntsman out seeing the world...

Fortunately, or unfortunately in my case, having apparently recovered enough it seemed Miss Mason had finally decided to deign to grace the Tavern at large with her presence and ruin those plans, much to the delight of the male clientele present.

Probably due in no small part to her apparent preference for loose clothing and prolific ability to steal away their hard earned Lien in those silly little games of chance.

And something about the young woman, a feeling that seemed to draw a soul in, or drive it off. That was another thing about Sienna now that I thought about it, she always had an eye on me and Miss Anbā, all of the Faunus really, as if afraid we'd stab her in the back if she let her guard down for even an instant.

Funnily enough however, it hardly seemed as if she were aware she was even doing it, the reaction seemingly ingrained. A racist, did Thom even know, or did he just not care? No, he seemed too nice for that...

"Really. Whatever does he see in her?..."

I brooded as I attempted to move a particularly drunken patron from his seat, the poor man dropping out as soon as I'd set a fresh foaming mug in front of him, face planting into the tabletop with a clatter. My fault, I should've been more focused on managing the clientele.

Instead there I was biting my lip with a fanged incisor, a grimace crossing my face at the brief sight of the Huntsman crouched beside the seated maiden, graciously holding her cards for her. The pair sharing another easy laugh at some joke she'd made that was soon carried by all, all except poor Mido that is.

The usually boisterous drunk taking another deep swig of his drink as he raised the pot ever higher, hoping to give the vixen pause.

Judging by the grin spreading across his face at the moment her opponent's cards came down, and the renewed chorus of jeers, the tactic didn't work out well for the hometown gambler...

From what I saw, the woman had Thomas gladly wrapped around her dainty finger, yet what was their relationship? Anbā had been telling me for days now to back off from the Huntsman with my little gifts and insinuations.

Worried I might do something to offend him no doubt, seeing as he shared a room with Sienna and the were strangely close despite bickering more often than not, like a couple...but they didn't act like like they were together.

No kissing, no longing looks, they didn't even hug...though her level of comfort around him, stripped to almost nothing right in front of him whenever it came time for her bath. It was simply indecent.

 _'It doesn't help the man is either dense as a brick or simply avoiding the issue...'_

"Popular one, ain't she?"

I blinked, turning my head towards the unfamiliar rasping voice issuing beside me as a chair scraped across the floor and creaked under fresh weight. " _Ahhhhh_ , that's better.

A solidly built older man with a thick mane of brilliantly crimson hair and a similarly colored beard, sporting a thick dark leather coat over a red tunic, as well as a spiked shoulder pad along with other patches of thick padding spattered across his gear showing him as an outsider.

The heavy pistol he left hanging off the back of his chair in a belt holster, only further proof this was a man one not unaccustomed to defending himself.

 _'One of the hired guards travelling the trade caravans, perhaps?'_

They were a common enough sight these days, men and women willing to risk the dangers outside the settlements for the promise of payment. What with the the CCT down, bandits roaming about free as they please, and most of the Huntsmen out keeping the Grimm in line, most caravans had learned to accept the extra help.

My employer would've had him pegged in an instant, I was sure. Long years running the tavern having gifted the old Fox with a keen sense for reading her customers. Sadly I wasn't quite so skilled.

The way he spoke for one, like he was far more used to shouting than normal speech volumes...

"I-I'm so sorry, Sir! Please, excuse me."

I instantly resumed my cheery exterior and slapped on a smile and an apologetic bow, relieved to see Miss Anbā far too busy breaking up the impromptu gambling ring.

More like making sure everyone went home happy with their pockets relatively full, much to a gloomy Sienna's consternation. She would've no doubt given me an earful if she'd known I'd let my mind wander in front of a guest.

"Excused, Missy. Weren't no trouble at all."

Again the rasp, as if he were holding back a shout in the back of his throat. It didn't matter, the way he said it and the sly attempt at a wink was enough to make me giggle at the absurdity of the act. Comical, but with a certain charm to it all the same, even if he did appear over twice my age, least from what I could tell. Who or what a ' _Missy_ '?

"Rouge, Roscoe Rouge."

"Azeri Asagi, welcome to the _Amber Fox_." I bowed a respectful Mistral greeting, rounding on the man to give him my full attention, or at least pretend to. "Can I get you started with anything? Something to eat maybe, we've got a great chef?" At least we did if I could pull Thom away from Mason's hip for any secure length of time whenever she felt like being social. "Best service in Akai-Hana, guaranteed."

 _'The only service, really...' I_ mused, striking the little pose Anbā had drilled into me, inviting, eager, yet respectful at the same time. Leaning in close, making the customer feel appreciated.

The newcomer, Mr. Rouge, shook his head to all offers while staring about main room as a a whole, from the roaring fireplace, the bustling bar area and the jeers of gamblers, taking in the space in moments. Eyes lingering for a short while on some of the myriad photo frames spaced about the room that had become little more than background to most.

Scenes of both of the early days of the settlement itself and a few of personal favorites of Mistress Anbā's that most never asked about if they knew what was good for them.

There were plenty of wonderful memories frozen in time up there, along with more than a few somber ones for balance.

"Well, I'll be..."

His gaze narrowed, as if focusing on one photo in particular, though from this distance it was hard to tell which one had caught his attention. I allowed the silence to continue unabated a few seconds more before clearing my throat.

"Uh...Sir?" I leaned in closer before letting loose a short lived yelp, pedaling back a step and bowing again apologetically at a grunt from the man, "Apologies, Sir...I um..." So _so_ thankful the Tavern's owner was busy playing the middle ground far behind me, seeing this would've had me scrubbing the floors for a week.

That is if Thom didn't offer to do them first, he was nice like that. Always helping...

 _'Focus!'_

"Eh? Ah, no! Sorry bout' that." Mr. Rogue snapped back to attention, grinning to himself, "Been out in the wilds too long, forgot my manners, specially' my Mistral ones."

My new customer laughed, frowning when I didn't follow along...and he kept the expression going even further. Looking at me right in the face, or more accurately at my scales, curiosity. It was...well, not fine, but I was used to it by now, though I did catch myself bringing a finger to move a bit of hair to help obscure the worst of the patina.

Thankfully, upon realizing his mistake he diverted his eyes back to mine rather than what lay around them.

It wasn't as if I hadn't realized how some humans viewed Faunus, it was hard not too when most newcomers to town would stare and flinch away at the sight of you, acting like there was something wrong with me...and it hurt.

Thing is, I was also aware of how most Faunus tended to react to that hurt, the White Fang's 'us versus them' rhetoric reaching even all the way out here to a place like this. More than a few of Akai-Hana's youthful Faunus, almost all of them truth be told, had given credence to their cause and run away to join up.

They'd seen their chance to be part of something bigger, and I'd to admit I'd been tempted, especially after Mother and Father passed and I was left alone. Those had been the rough days, many the human parents afraid of what the Faunus orphan might do to their kids, the Faunus bitter over losing their own to the Khan and her movement.

Miss Anbā had saved me, taken me in when I had no one else to turn to.

She had her own rather opinions about the White Fang's ideals, even if she rarely gave voice to them.

The woman ran a profitable business, held an active role in her community, and was by in large a successful example of what a Faunus could accomplish even in the face of adversity, without resorting to violence.

And overall, the rule of law in her tavern was clear to all comers...

 _-"Believe what you want, think what you will, but leave the trouble outside or you'll be footing the bill."-_

A silly song that had sprung up, one the Innkeeper hated with a passion, but truthful nonetheless and those who'd come to drink here respected that notion wholeheartedly.

It was why I could weather the abuse from some customers, because I knew the others would soon see them out the door.

"Apologies Missy, caught me off guard there. Don't see too many Faunus where I'm from. Thought it was makeup or somethin'...ah, I ain't much for talkin'."

 _'Oh, really?'_ I shook my head, trying to clear it.

"It's alright, I know they can be a bit strange at first."

"Not at all!" He said defensively, and surprisingly enough, genuinely. His grin returning in earnest, showing rows of pearly white teeth amidst the red bristles. "Real shiny like, know quite a few lasses who'd kill for looks like yours."

"Really?" My eyes widened and I felt a shimmer of heat touch my cheeks, pleasant surprise warring with disbelief. "That's uh...quite nice of you to say."

"Course', where I'm from we've got quite a place in our hearts for 'shiny'. 'Sparkly' too, after a fashion. Sort've like Magpies, but with better business sense." Rouge snickered, smile growing ever broader and his laugh ever louder as I joined in awkwardly. "If I was a bettin' man I'd think you'd be quite popular, Missy!"

"Uh huh?"

My eyebrow rose, good sense trying not to let the compliments get to my head as my employer had taught me. That was always a slippery slope, a few nice words here and there, a tip or two, and soon enough it'd be free drinks and skipped tabs once they think they can chance it.

I'd had a long day, a few nice words from a source that wasn't face first in his cups had to count for something.

I shot a look over my shoulder and, upon reading that the atmosphere was surprisingly tame and the Innkeeper chatting amicably with a few of the tradesmen passing through, most of the activity focused around the game and the onlookers more focused on passing money between themselves than spending it on drinks.

A fact I knew would change with a vengeance the moment a winner was declared, sat down in the seat across from him, leaving the drunkard and his untouched drink sit between me and the rough customer.

A bit of distance, as there should be...so why couldn't I stop talking?

Because he didn't interrupt me? Yes, that had to have something to do with it, it wasn't like I was some gossip...really he should've been interrupting me, making some untoward advance or bad joke that would give me a reason to walk away, but he didn't.

He listened, asked questions after topics I brought up regarding life here in Akai-Hana. It was almost pleasant, but then of course we had to get to Sienna...

"That girl...she certainly knows how to work a crowd that one. Another popular one." Rouge said again, repeating the statement that had grabbed my attention in the first place. Eyes drifting curiously towards the cackling Witch before flitting back to me me as fidgeted in the seat I'd taken and opened my mouth only to snap it shut again, red faced. "Not to you, I take it?"

"It's not that I don't like her, not really. Not that I do like her much..."

I was rambling, why was I rambling? To a customer too, so unprofessional.

At least it was someone new, a drifter passing through with the caravans. Someone I'd likely never see again once they walked out the painted door. A regular like Mido or those kindly faces I'd known since those early days awkwardly busing tables and stumbling over orders.

That made this better, easier...

Probably why I couldn't help myself then, my words spilling out before I could stop them. Those plans for what I'd foolishly hoped tonight would be, my thoughts about our town's newest protector, the issues I faced with Sienna and Miss Anbā. It almost seemed as though half the night had faded away as I simply vented...it felt nice, like a palpable weight lifting off my shoulders.

"I just don't know what to do."

"He's your chance, then." Rouge said, nodding his head and sipping at the mug that I'd brought for the unconscious customer whose table he'd also stolen. "He's excitin', he's new..." Really I should've made him pay for it, but seeing as he'd listened to my onslaught without complaint I couldn't quite bring myself to make a fuss. Plus it wasn't as if he was wrong, "...and not to mention your chance to get out of this little town, maybe see the world, you reckon. That a yes?"

"Yes, I mean no, I...I mean a little bit...!" My words were disordered, flustered, and after refusing an offer to sip at his mug I id my utmost to school them back into something resembling thoughts. "I love the village, it's my home. And I care about the people here, Miss Anbā and all the rest, but here is just so...so..."

"Simple?" He supplied helpfully.

"Exactly!"

"You're feelin's confined?"

I nodded fervently, scratching at a scaled cheek that suddenly felt uncomfortably warm.

"Nothing ever changes, nothing except for who comes through the gates from the outside, and the stories they tell." Stories of faraway Kingdoms, of great heroes, and cities full of lights... "But even then, it doesn't hurt that he's something new. Most other visitors are traders, guards looking to get drunk, scoundrels on the run, or..."

"Oddly attractive older men?"

I actually snorted at the jest, or at least I thought it had been a jest until I was suckered in by the look of mock hurt on his face, stammering out an apology before I realized he was laughing at me now, an act that saw my arms crossed and my cheeks puffed out.

It didn't last, I was having too much fun bantering with the stranger.

"Pardon, couldn't resist. And neither could you, I imagine." He motioned a thumb towards Thom Braun, currently in the midst of passing around platters, long plates balanced precariously along his arms. "Ah to be young again, I miss them days. The carousin', the attention..."

"Hmm, jealous?"

I leaned forward running a hand through my hair idly, blushing and practically leaping to return a wave the Huntsman sent my way, though he might just have been adjusting one of his burdens, my hand dropping back to my chest awkwardly.

"He's different from other boys around here, this air of mystery about him. I've known him for weeks now and I still hardly know a thing."

"And this...what'd ya call it. ' _Air of mystery_ '? That's what's attractive these days?"

"I wouldn't say 'attractive', but it's...I don't know, so exciting." I sighed pensively, resting my chin on my palm as I watched Thom from a distance. "Is that silly? It sounds silly."

Rouge shrugged his broad shoulders, chuckling under his breath. "Can be, but I suppose you can't help what ya feel, but just a warnin'. You ought to be extra cautious round' his type, Missy." Rouge growled into his 'borrowed' mug, eyeing my crush up and down with a look of appraisal, or so it seemed to me anyway from where I was sitting. "Nothin' but trouble they are."

"His 'type'?

"Ya know? Mysterious boy driftin' about, flashin' a handsome smile to get a lass like you blushin', plus tales aplenty for a starry eyed audience. Problem is, he's got no roots to hold im' down once he's done, his stories never quite tell enough, and then it's _poof_!" He clapped his hands, almost sending me and the table toppling over with how high I jumped. "Gone, up and vanished like that. Long' with your heart and only that if y'all're lucky. Better you steer clear for your own good, find someone else for yer' little dance."

"Hmm, why does it sound like you've given this talk before, Mr. Rouge?" I replied cheekily, wincing as I rubbed at the spot on my knee that had juddered up against the table's underside. "Certainly seem to think you know the type, anyway."

For a quick second I thought I might've gone a bit too far with the retort, then a booming laugh sounded out that had me jumping and cursing under my breath as I hit my knee again. The rough looking man taking a deep breath to calm himself, wiping at his sodden foam licked beard with the back of a meaty fist.

"Missy, it might surprise you, but I **_was_** that type." Rouge puffed himself up proudly, broad arms crossed across a broader chest, only to deflate swiftly at the sound of my snickering, "I'm serious! _'Rouge the Rascal'_ folks used to call me cross' the length and breadth of the Badlands, from _Waste's Edge_ to _Spire Point!"_

 _'So...the Badlands, eh...'_

I listened to the man's boasting with renewed interest, glad I could finally pin a place to the accent. I'd heard plenty of tales about that near lawless region of Sanus, all but run by Bandits and thieves if the rumors were true, or by Atlas depending on who one asked.

Perhaps Mr. Rouge was as rough as he seemed to be, or maybe he was just out here looking for bit of peace and quiet to get away from it all.

 _'He said 'used to'. Wonder what people call him now?'_

To be sure, he certainly didn't seem like what one might envision a dastardly bandit to be, not like the stories of those awful Branwen Clan monsters anyway. Especially after his next word.

"'Side from that, I did happen to give this same talk to my little darlin', so I guess you can say I've been over this hill before." Rouge smiled fondly, swirling what contents remained in his mug. "More than once, truth be told. Silly little Cherry."

"And did she ever wind up listening to you in the end?"

I got up, brushing off my dress and brushing the hair from my face as I looked to regard my new...friend, customer? Maybe this was the strange sort've connection one had when they served others, that feeling Mistress Anbā was always going on about whenever I asked why she still hung around a small outpost like this, even though she was always complaining about one thing or another.

"Your daughter, I mean?"

Rouge spared me a rueful glance, eyes drifting from myself to Thom with what might've been resignation before shaking his head fitfully. "No, no she did not. If anythin' it only egged her on."

"Huh? Good to know."

I drew in a deep steadying breath, spinning fast and snatching his mug from his hand and downed the honey laced contents before the Badlander could do more than gape.

Wiping my chin, I smiled a fang toothed beaming grin and slammed the mug down, giving the ginger haired man one last nod of thanks before marching towards the crowd and the Huntsman suddenly now very aware of my presence.

Seeing as I'd snagged him by the end if that curious scarf he always seemed to wear in some fashion or another, even indoors, it was difficult to see how he couldn't be aware. My intentions weren't exactly hidden as well, the drink and the confidence spurring me to blurt them right to his face.

It was a good feeling getting them off my chest, and the look on Sienna Mason's face was priceless to behold up close...so caught up was I in my victory, especially when the Huntsman stammered out a startled yes, that I didn't notice the scroll snapping pictures of Thom's face, comparing it with one he held on file.

Nor did I see the sly crooked smile spreading across my newest confidant's face after a night well spent, or hear the words he uttered in the barest whisper lost in the uproar of the moment happening throughout the bar.

The words of a hunter sighting his prey through the scope...

"Heh...Gotcha, Ambrose."

* * *

 ** _-Joel Ambrose-_**

 _-"Man and Metal are much the same, Stahl. Both require shaping and tempering, patience and diligence, to reveal the true scope of their potential. Whether for good or ill, it all begins with the fires of hope."-_

 _Those had been words my Mentor, old venerable Albin, Master of the Chosen's Forges and a prisoner hailing from a land that no longer existed under the Dark Goddess' rule...had gifted me._

 _The second and last of twin revelations I'd ever heard a man I viewed as no less than a Father had uttered to me as the flanking Overseers and their monstrous creature had dragged him away in chains he himself had shaped._

 _There was an irony there beneath the sadness and the instilled order, a bitter one...one that didn't ease the horror of hearing exactly what the cruel servants of the Chosen did to him echoing through the stone halls of the forges._

 _The old smith had somehow been involved in the nascent rebellion taking hold of the lowest levels, deep within the silver veined mines that ran for miles beneath the fortress, a rebellion swiftly growing out of hand from what the whispers passed by weary broken lips in the sleeping barracks told. Supplying weapons meant for the Overseers to those slaves that in turn sought to turn them on their captors, had even conversed with the rumored leader of the malcontents, a young woman no older than myself if the stories were to be believed._

 _A girl really by the name of Rowan, a figure that had somehow managed to rally a group of downtrodden souls into a force that made the Chosen nervous._

 _Both grave crimes indeed in the eyes of our Master's. One that, in what passed for their hearts, deserved to be punished severely._

 _His screams and howls meant to be heard by those left behind a warning, a glimpse of what would happen to those whose loyalty ever wavered from the brilliance of the Dark Goddess and her disciples. So I and my fellows worked harder, louder, in order to drown out such sounds and save ourselves the pain of listening. But I still heard them, even so..._

 _I should've been with him, the Ruling Overseer had called for my head as well. Doubtless in his belief that I had been touched by the same rebellious spirit, but the Older man had pleaded with him._

 _I was a prodigy in the art of shaping metal, long since surpassing even his skills despite being only an adolescent youth, much of the work produced by his section of the smithies being my own. I should live instead of him, and for that he had degraded his own pride in his craft to see me survive._

 _My Mentor hadn't lied to them, Albin never saw any reason to. I was skilled beyond my years, unnaturally so some said in the dark when they thought I could not hear them._

 _Hands as black as the minerals used to stoke the forges, darkened even further and cracked by the heat of the hearth, could shape wonders that was true._

 _More than one of the dark robed and masked Chosen having presented martial or artistic examples of my work that they enjoyed, in favor of keeping me 'productive'. Another reason the Overseer had relented no doubt, but I'd never spoken to the older man of how much he had influenced me._

 _My efforts were spurred on in hopes of matching his peerless skill. My innovations and drive spurred on in hopes of relieving the back-breaking burdens placed on his hunched shoulders. My inspiration due in no small part to his example...and I'd never told him so._

 _Never placed how much I had appreciated his teachings, his care for me over the years, the live and respect I felt for him into words. I reasoned, deep down, that it didn't matter. Albin had never been one for words._

 _Words were hard, and near pointless to our craft. My teacher had known what I'd felt deep down, and had shared the same in those rare smiles I'd occasionally glimpse in the midst of our labors, his wizened features splitting in a broken half grin._

 _But he was gone now, and I wish I'd tried..._

 _Now I was the Smith, no longer the apprentice shielded from such strife, young but expected to work as hard as he himself had if not more so in order to fill the ledgers and meet the never ending demands of those that dwelt above us._

 _It was difficult, but there was an order to it, a routine just like there was in the smith's art. As long as I considered the problem like that, the despair wouldn't set in. Or so I hoped..._

 _For I held secrets, dangerous secrets indeed._..

 _The first would've seen me executed immediately, or taken away by the Overseers never to be seen or heard from again...if I was fortunate._

 _The power of the Soul coursed through me, or so Albin had said when I'd first noticed the pulse of green hued energy coursing across my skin in the heat of the hearth. That same energy had shielded me when one of the great smelting vats had failed, claiming the lives of several smiths in a wash of intense heat and flame. Those flames however had ceased with me, the heat absorbed into my skin, leaving me invigorated...until I'd witnessed the fate of the others._

 _The Chosen craved such power, it was said, and slew those that bore it in an attempt to claim it for themselves. Others believed that the Chosen_ _ **were**_ _in fact the final fate of those Souls that showed too brightly, granted station and status through their Dark Goddess' will and whim. Neither option had held appeal for me, thus when the old smith had bade me to hide my 'gift', I hadn't protested._

 _The second was also dangerous, but not just to myself. A secret that affected the lives of all within the Fortress from the highest echelons of the Dark Goddess' servants lording and lauding their tributes in their decadent apartments to the lowest slave wallowing away in the mines in a world that knew no light but that of hope._

 _I knew what going to happen this day. What was coming..._

* * *

 _It all started with screaming, that I remembered clearly enough..._

 _A storm heralded by the echoes of distant cries, men and women fighting through the winding corridors of the Fortress and the catacombs beneath, metal clanging against metal in a way that was both familiar to the ears of every smith in the smoke choked foundries, yet so unfamiliar as well._

 _What sounded was not the solid *CLANG* of a hammer shaping, but the screeching *KEEN* of bladed edges scraping against armored plates. Of a hundred different crudely shaped picks and daggers clutched in a hundred different hands all striking as one against the pitch black plate borne by the Overseers and crushing it under their weight._

 _The sounds of battle, of revolution, a herald of change for good or ill as Albin had said. He'd been a soldier before being captured by the Dark Goddess' forces and brought to the Fortress, he'd known of such things._

 _To myself and my fellows however, such sounds were terrifying to behold, many scrambling about in a panic as the lone Overseer shouted his dismay in his failing attempts to maintain order. A hissing sword appearing in his hand from a black hide sheath at his hip, the weapon of decent quality but with a slight imbalance in its weight, obvious to the trained eye but all but meaningless when it was being waved in one's face._

 _So wrapped up in talking down the brewing riot, he didn't notice as I moved quickly towards a scuffed wooden chest that had belonged to my Mentor, the vessel in which his few remaining worldly possessions lay stored. Hands shaking as I opened the container and began to haphazardly shift precious reminders of the man aside in my haste to reach the false bottom._

 _Unfortunately for out jailer, he was also slow to react to the wrought silver door at the top of stone steps leading to the higher floors falling inward in a deafening clamor, knocked free from its hinges._

 _Just as he did the arrival of a new face in the forge standing in the still dust strewn doorway, a youthful one possessive of glowing blue eyes that burned with a true storm all its own, and framed by tousled hair that rell about her shoulders the color of the ink he'd used to make notes in his ledger, that is except for a patch amidst the fringes as white as the clouds I vaguely recalled from indistinct memories of the outside._

 _A young woman, garbed in a tattered threadbare tunic and breeches that was more grime and shoddy patchwork than anything approximating actual clothing. Scavenged pieces of metal jangled off a body made lithe by hardship, barely held in place by belted straps and vaguely shaped into something seeking to imitate the armor the Overseer she now faced bore across a much larger, far more imposing, frame._

 _Such shoddy craftsmanship...and...and that weapon..._

 _A thin metal spar of iron, likely a cast off from some tool or perhaps a railing, the tip shaved into a crude point. The craftsman in me almost wept at the sight of such tortured material._

 _'What is she possibly hoping to...?'_

 _I didn't get to complete the thought, I would know soon enough anyways._

 _Sense overcoming shock at last, the cruel man...one of those who had helped drag my Mentor to his doom with a sadistic chuckle of glee behind the white Soulless mask he wore at the old man's suffering, spun about to face the interloper and upon seeing her so poorly armed yet defiant, let loose a feral roar that stung my ears and put some of the other smiths on their knees weeping like children._

 _The warrior born raced towards his diminutive foe, grunting and snarling much like the corrupted beasts his masters wielded in the Dark Goddess' name._

 _By all rights that should've been it, the broader warrior with the deadlier weapon, muscles made strong by spiteful use and cruel alchemy, crushing this small insignificant example of a people attempting to rise with pitiful ease...and then she moved, and all my worries faded to nothing._

 _Her stance was crude, made all the more awkward by the weight of armor she was clearly not used to wearing, but it mattered little in the end. The Overseer's sword coming down in a wide, killing arc, meant to split her skull but instead was rebuffed and redirected off the blunted edge of the spar, his intended kill maneuvering about to get at his side and attempting to stab upward into the unarmored sections below his armpit or perhaps at the point beteen plate and helm. A move she'd used before, I could see now, practiced._

 _Blue eyes like the sky, shining with focus and something else, an energy I could feel prickling at what hair remained on my arms and scalp. But even so her foe was far from done, a jerk of his balance and the spar skidded off the metal plate of the guard's chest piece and impacting the thick side of his crimson marked helm with a keening wail that rang throughout the forge halls like a clarion bell. A failed strike, her chance slipped through her fingers..._

 _Dazed but still frenzied, guided by pain and malice, her attacker sweeping out with his cleaver like blade, the girl barely bringing her own weapon up in time to catch the impact, though it was still enough to send her skittering backwards across the soot strewn floor, sending up clouds of muck that stung her vision along with the sweat, her awareness unused to the heat._

 _The maddened Overseer having no such difficulty, brought his weapon down in one wild artless swipe after another, battering down upon her meager attempts to defend herself._

 _Strength, size, and reach seeking to triumph over speed, driving her towards closer and closer to one corner of the chamber...and her death. A certainty, as her spar finally snapped under the pressure, warped and mangled by repeated blows it had never been designed to take, a mailed fist driving to her stomach her from her feet to crash back into the intended killing ground, her skin alight with a glowing blue energy that only seemed to enrage him more, stalking closer as she gasped and struggled to remove the dented chest piece._

 _I had a choice to make, and make it I did...drawing the hidden contents from the trunk without much conscious realization of what it was I intended. Smiths and artisans double or triple my age fell back away from me or outright cried out as I moved towards the conflict at a run, one broad hand clutching a tightly wrapped bundle the length of my arm and perfectly balanced just from the feel._

 _The other reaching out into a furnace and drawing a pair of heavy tongs turned a pulsing orange from the heat of the depths, a feat which should've set my callused skin sizzling, not an uncommon thing down in these works._

 _Rather than cry out in pain as I should have, I stayed silent, and rather than burning agony, I felt only exhilaration and renewed energy. That, and a burning anger, anger at the man who had taken my Master away from me..._

 _An odd feeling, made all the more jarring as I swung the tool to impact against the side of the Overseer's helm with a might that saw it near sundered into his skull and sent him reeling back, muscle made thick with the repeated rigors of my craft meaning he fared far worse against this assault than that of the waif staring at me with wide surprise. Surprise that only grew as I shoved the bundle into her hands before moving slowly to place the tool in a water filled bucket thankfully left undisturbed by their fight, the metal screaming its relief in a cloud of steam, letting the anger fade back with the steam, it wouldn't do to use it here, not now._

 _"Y-You are...?"_

 _She possessed a startled voice, but not an unpleasent one. I was used to the ragged rasp of lungs made heavy by ash and soot, and was shamed to say I'd expected much the same from one who'd toiled in the mines below._

 _"Who...?"_

 _"Finish this." I said simply in reply._

 _A woman's voice was rare here, my only experience the haughty demands of a Chosen, and that was far from pleasent. But she shouldn't dawdle, already the Overseer was recovering, tearing his face helm away to show blunt palid features, daubed with crude crimson patterns made difficult to discern amidst the blood flowing from a wound in his scalp._

 _"M-My Lady, aid me! Give...give me strength...!" He beseeched his Dark Goddess with a shrill whine, scrambling to retrieve his sword, movements awkward as if deep in his cups._

 _Not the first injury I'd inflicted, life as a favorite of the Chosen bred resentment, even here. Oft times I was forced to defend myself, violently in many cases, when jealous hearts had sought to harm me away from Albin's watchful gaze._

 _But it was the first injury I didn't regret..._

 _The stranger was confused, but that soon melted away as unsure hands felt the hilt of a single edged longsword, drawing the full length of the weapon from dirtied rags to shine with silvery provenance from tip to pointed crossguard even in the dim illumination cast by the coals._

 _It seemed large in such small hands, requiring a two handed grip for one such as her, though if the weight discomforted her she gave no sign, merely glancing at way the light played off the killing edge. There was little in the way of embellishment aside from a script lightly etched into the fuller, in a language likely from its craftsman's own lost homeland._

 _Albin's masterpiece, the result of a year spent honing the weapon in private amidst the flurry of his other duties, desperate to keep it hidden from the slightest scrutiny of all except his precious student. I could still remember the night he'd declared it complete, mere hours before he was taken, tears in his eyes from the knowledge that even if by some miracle he survived the coming trials, he would never craft something so perfect again._

 _The greatest joy, and greatest dread of any artisan..._

 _These were things I'd expected, the beauty of the sword alone. As she gripped the hilt tighter however, I realized that the wielder still had something left to add to the mix, the curious flickering energy I'd noticed before, so similar to that I possessed, almost appeared to flow into the masterwork._

 _That was when...when the weapon truly began to sing..._

 _A low thrummming vibration that seemed to echo from the blade as it moved languidly through the air, rising to a fever pitch as she shouldered me aside roughly and brought it to bear. Quite a feat given the difference in our size, but one I appreciated as it saved me the chopping stroke of the Overseer's cleaver, the girl already moving Albin's gift to meet the weapon on the backswing...and once again sang a brilliant note as it sheared through the crude iron like a hot knife through animal fat in a showered of blue sparks._

 _The brute cared little for the loss of his weapon already moving to barrel bodily into our Savior only to be thrown backwards by a burst of primal energy that set her hair crackling and pulsed from the hand she held to his chest, convulsing on the ground before falling finally still at her feet, much to the amazement and awe on every face in the chamber, including my own. She didn't say anything for a moment, her whole body shaking, sword clutched in hand._

 _Her face in that moment however, I found it...odd. A mix of exhileration, anger, joy, defiance...completion...determination._

 _It was the face of a craftsman caught in their work, work that was only partways done..._

 _"Secure the forge, we have word she came this way! Find her,_ _ **now!**_ _"_

 _A furious shout rose up from the chamber's entrance, one that sent shivers of anxiety rippling through my fellows and myself if I was honest. We feared retribution, our Taskmaster dead, the punishment...it was almost too terrifying to comprehend. The young warrior seemed less affected, raising a hand to halt me as I made to move, shaking her head wearily._

 _Rather than the Overseer's and monster's we'd feared, those who entered the forge levels and descended the stone steps bore the panolopy of slaves, many dressed in little more than rags. All bore some kind of weapon, metal spars, picks, clubs, some even carried shards of sharpened stone, and more than one bore injury or signs of recent combat._

 _At the mob's head stood a green eyed youth sporting similar armor to hers if far more battered and blood stained, a powerfully buiilt young man with dark hair pulled back into a tight bun, a confident if haughty air hanging about him._

 _In his calloused hand he held an ornately maintained sword almost as long as he was tall perched at his shoulder in preparation for a fight, one I recognized with a twinge of shock as having belonged to one of the Chosen Masters lording over this section of the Fortress. For him to possess it..._

 _Rather than see it in action however, he lowered it with a scowl after catching sight of the two of us standing over the body of the Overseer._

 _"Tch, here we go."_

 _I looked to my new companion, her face set into one of resigned acceptance. The kind I supposed a child might wear when caught in wrongdoing._

 _A reasonable suggestion as the newcomer seemed of a mind to scold, grabbing for the shoulder of a child that had no right to be covered in as much grime and blood as he was, the girl biting her lip at the sight of him._

 _"Kay, run word to Kara and tell her to double back. We've gained good ground today, now it's about seeing if we'll be able to hold onto it. Oh, and do let her know we've found where Rowan ran off to..."_

* * *

 _"You have my thanks."_

 _"Huh?" I blinked, not truly registering that the girl, no...the living tale had spoken to me._

 _Last I'd seen, she'd been darting between a half dozen different conversations with men and women of the new force, though focusing primarily on the young man who had first led the rebels here._

 _Quite the furious exchange it seemed, both red faced and arguing until a girl carrying a crude bow with hair of mixed onyx and gold pulled him aside to deal with another pressing matter, the youth with dirty black hair from before and eyes so similar to our savior's trailing in his wake._

 _A brother perhaps, at least by the way she looked at him._

 _"Your thanks?"_

 _"For stepping in when you did. Viridis did say I'd get myself into trouble running off on my own, said it was reckless. Would've hated to prove him right." She cracked off a laugh that soon died away into a sheepish chuckle as I looked on curiously, a blush showing through the grime staining her pale cheeks. "Heh heh...ahem, right. You...wouldn't know him, not that funny then. Just...just forget I said anything, alright?"_

 _"Why? It does sound like it was rather foolhardy of you, my Lady." She pouted at that, whether at the praise for her lieutenant or the title I couldn't be certain. Though an on a list of things I had been surprised at today, it was strange the sort of things that leap to the forefront of notice. "This Viridis sounds a wise individual."_

 _"Oh don't let him hear you say that, any bigger and I think his head might just burst." She groaned looking off towards the one she'd been fighting with, Viridis no doubt, before holding up the sword she still held, admiring it appreciatively and only tearing her eyes away from it with some difficulty. Thinking to herself before speaking, her words measured. "Regardless, I appreciate your aid, friend. My name is..."_

 _"Rowan." It began as a whisper, one that nevertheless seemed to have an impact on those listening in around us. All eyes falling upon the young woman who fidgeted uncomfortably in the face of the renewed scrutiny. "You're THE Rowan."_

 _"'The Rowan', that's certainly a new one. Simple, I like it." She, Rowan, nodded in quaint acceptance, looking at the assembled smiths and trying her best to stand a bit straighter. "And as for you..." Back to me it seems, I wasn't cofortable with all this talking. "This sword, the way you drank the fire...that must mean you're...Stahl, yes? The Master Apprentice, Albin spoke often of you."_

 _"Master Albin?" Another shock, this one hitting with a dull thrum that threathened the veneer of control I held in check. "_ You knew him?"

 _"Of course, he was one of the first we found who would actually aid us, all the way back in the beginning. One of the few adults we could trust not to sell us to the Overseers."_

 _It certainly sounded like my enigmatic Teacher, and it would explain the question of where he'd been sneaking off too these last handful of years. Men often sought their vices in the rare times between labors, I'd always assumed, and never judged._

 _"At first it was just food scraps, information about the tunnels and passages of the higher floors, things like that. But overtime he began to show us how to not just survive, but how to fight, how to think." She brought the sword to law flat against her palm, that strange energy pulsing from her in waves that set the blade humming gently once more. "I think he finally realized at some point that we were serious, that we wanted to help teach others."_

 _"And you did." I looked at the myriad faced of fighters young and old that milled around us, conversing with the other still shocked and reclusive Smiths over weapons and such. Those who, I had no doubt, had bee awaiting this chance for years, and had been willing to take up arms in a cause that might just see them free._

 _"And we did, though not without hardship." A shadow fell over her smile, one that made me respect her far more than I'd thought possible. She wasn't just in this for power, acting as some figurehead, she wanted change, and she cared about those she sought it for. "I promised him I would come here first, that I would break his chains myself." She looked around the chamber, biting her lip. "I was...I was too late, wasn't I?"_

* * *

 _Rowan hadn't wept when I shared with her the truth, she didn't scream or rage, but that didn't mean the sadness wasn't there._

 _It was just buried, buried under the weight of what she and her fellows had taken upon themselves to accomplish._

 _She had lit the fires of hope, now she had to see them stoked and maintained._

 _They had won a great victory, catching the Chosen off guard and flooding the levels with souls ready and willing to take a chance. With what they could scavenge from the Overseer's they'd slain, they would at least be able to outfit some, but more and worse would soon come from above._

 _I'd seen the soulless monsters that served at the Dark Goddess' command, creatures that could tear a grown man asunder in seconds with tooth and claw._

 _To face them, the soul-wielders would need to stand firm. Few in number, most with the power of their Aura's unlocked at great effort by Rowan herself, but they would need to be the bulwark against that tide of nightmares, or this would all be for naught._

 _So I took up the hammer, while Rowan led the way with her blade, the distinctness of it already spreading as rumor among our ragged forces. An inspiration, for wherever it was seen, the 'Lady of Light' was there as well, bringing the wrath of the storm in her wake._

 _The archer songstress Kara, leading the scouting parties that ranged at the front of our glorified mob._

 _Capable of weaving the very air itself to aid her steps, charting a path through the Fortress beyond. Her hatred for the Chosen and their machinations knowing no equal, except for perhaps one._

 _Viridis...while anyone asked would say that Rowan lead the charge and inspired the people, Viridis was the one to hold it in one piece and keep it focused._

 _A keen mind for strategy, backed by an anger that would see the Overlords above us crushed under foot, and a will to see his people freed. He needed all of it and more to keep the splintered factions that made up the revolt in check, men and women who had spent their entire lives apart from one another suddenly united under one banner._

 _The Lady found him overbearing at times, protective, and his ability to enforce his will upon others...to gaze into an Overseer's eyes and bend him to betray his masters, was disconcerting. A hideous Gift, one he himself espoused to dislike, with a vehemence I personally found admirable._

 _It was Viridis who showed me how to harness the strength my Soul granted me, my spirit brought forth to protect others. Wielding my Aura as I had a hammer, to "forge a better world for our people". Pretty words, but from his mouth I actually believed them. And the skills he taught me saved my life in the Chosen's final desperate counterattack to prevent us from leaving the depths of the cavernous holds._

 _A bloody fight that had seen Rowan and her fellowship, myself counted among that number strangely enough, facing one of the Master's of this Fortress. A masked creature wrapped in robes, hardly even human anymore with clawed limbs and slavering jaws. Terrifying in its cruelty and wickedly cunning, but it had fallen all the same._

 _She'd told me afterwards she'd named the sword after it's creator, a sentiment she felt was appropriate, as if my Master would still be by her side, fulfilling the dream he was never able to see complete in life._

 _To those that followed her, the sword earned quite a different name. One that soon became associated with the world we were trying to build, a life where no child would ever suffer, where no man would be silenced for his beliefs._

 _So began the legend of the sword, a blade they named..._ _ **Albion**_ _._

* * *

 ** _-_ END**


	17. Chapter 17

_**Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_

* * *

LOSING CONTROL

* * *

 _ **-Rosso Garrett-**_

The Kingdom of Atlas was many things to many different peoples, depending on who one asked... and exactly who did the asking.

For most, the northernmost Kingdom of Remnant was the pinnacle of progress and innovation. A glowing example of Mankind's determination to not just survive the difficulties and obstacles of a hostile world, but to thrive and overcome them utilizing science and reason.

The ever-stalwart defender of the fragile peace that has existed since the conclusion of the Great War, offering advances such as the Cross-Continental Transmit System, Scroll technology, robotics, and so much more to the peoples of all Kingdoms... if not always as freely as some might have liked.

Atlas also stood as an exemplar to order and strength of arms, its methods sometimes harsh in securing the necessary aid and resources to feed the great machine of advancement, my own home of Mantle among those affected by Solitas' capital.

But for all its faults, Atlas still tried. One couldn't begrudge them that, certainly not. It's why I felt such pride in my service, gazing about the interior of Atlas Academy from the corner of my eye.

Perhaps the architecture was not as artistically crafted as fallen Beacon, lacking the stylized arches and sky-reaching towers, but it made up for it in the sheer feeling of power it exuded.

 _'No wonder that Cinder woman picked Vale. Her plan **never** would've worked here.'_

Even to one with a relatively inexperienced eye for such things, I knew enough about strategy to make out the obvious differences between the two Huntsman Academies I've seen, at least from a military perspective. This was no castle to impress. This was a fortress in all its awe-inspiring form, the beating heart of progress at the center of it all, and the seat of General Ironwood himself.

That was intimidating enough. Then one simply looked up and noticed the airspace filled with craft of varying tonnage and firepower, numbers easily the equal to any other Kingdom's aerial capability, and this was just a standing guard.

Many of Remnant's brightest minds, those responsible for the developing miracles and marvels of tomorrow and those who would go on to become the Kingdom's bravest defenders, walked these halls with easy confidence and disciplined poise... and all stumbled and tripped over themselves to get out of the way of one Specialist Benjamin Carson.

"...Why so many frickin' stairs? ' _Thanks,_ ' General, callin' me outta the blue..." the young Huntsman growled under his breath, half marching, half limping on his bad leg with purpose at the head of his entourage with the air of a man sallying forth to face down a Beowolf down with little more than a water pistol, and fully expecting to win. "Really. Ya'd think when a man promises to your face that you're 'off-duty,' that it'd mean enjoyin' some actual time-off 'fore he drags you in to the fray again, wouldn't ya?"

"Weren't you saying earlier that if I didn't find a way to get you out of lunch with the Schnee Family, you would likely, and I quote, 'tear that wizened old Beowolf's mustache off, and feed it to him?...'" I reminded him, smiling apologetically under that emerald gaze. "Would you have preferred I come up with some excuse to merely delay your commitment?"

"Nah, just would've preferred it if _you'd_ done something rather than have him muck about." He shook his head somberly, eyes set. "Not to mention the Princess's gonna have my head. Been askin' me about that damned meetup for a week now, and Daddy's gonna be a smug bastard 'bout it, like always."

He kneaded his forehead, the onset of another headache. At least he wasn't thumbing his pockets again. Fortunately, he wasn't that far gone.

"That's the way he wants to play it, fine. Least Woody's the one that'll have to deal with the disappointed paparazzi. Can see the headlines rippin' into him now. ' _Couple's Outing Delayed by Duty,'_ or some bull like that."

He was tense, not that I couldn't sympathize. It wasn't everyday one received a missive to suspend all activity, and report directly to arguably the most powerful man in this Kingdom. And that was if anyone even bothered to disagree, which not many did.

General James Ironwood was a legend throughout Solitas, and prominent role model for much of my early life, yet I still had trouble composing myself in his presence, let alone the few times he actually spoke to me directly, using my name...

 _'Come to think of it, didn't I faint the first time?... And then the time after that. Then at that party...'_

Yes, I could entirely understand a bit of nerves, certainly.

Still, I had to say something... I cleared my throat, the sound echoing throughout the acoustics of the sparsely decorated halls, and more than a little awkward, truth be told. No matter, I was committed, Scroll clutched against my chest tightly for some much needed support.

"Specialist Carson, sir, forgive me for saying so, but perhaps...!?"

"We've been over this Echo. You don't have to go beggin' me to forgive ya every time you wanna say somethin' I might not wanna hear. And it's ' _Boss._ ''Specialist' just sounds so stiff. Leave that formal crap to Hemlock."

"And ' _Boss_ ' doesn't?" Cherry snickered, jabbing Carson in the metal arm, her laughter somewhat muted by a gasp of pain. "S-so humble, Carson."

"Worked well enough for the gangs back home, didn't it?" The Specialist waved a robotic hand, cursing under his breath at the slight, if obvious delay in the motor functions before shrugging off the concern as negligible. "Anyway, that's s'posed to be your job now, ain't it, Echo? Keepin' me on track?"

I supposed that was a easy enough way to describe arranging the Specialist's _very_ busy schedule while not on assignment, keeping track of messages and missives while he was off performing his duties to Atlas: making sure his clothes were washed, keeping track of personal belongings and such, making sure the ship received its proper clearance and refits in a timely fashion.

That last one usually demanded a complex back and forth between half a dozen different officials and ranking officers over the same amount of mostly sleepless nights. Not to mention competing with other ships looking to get ahead of us as their crews and various personalities did the same for a dwindling number of berths.

These among a hundred other minute details that I - and the Specialist, as he'd apologized to me countless times in his less than sober moments - had expected.

Yes, "keeping him on track." That worked just fine...

Carson sighed, running his flesh hand through his slicked back blonde hair, shaking his head before turning to face our third companion with what passed for a reasonable attempt at a wry grin. "What gives, Rouge? Thought you were teachin' him how to relax?"

"...Yeah, it's, uh, well... I'm considerin' it a work in progress at this point," the red-headed Paladin pilot said with the barest hint of hesitation, conveniently avoiding my gaze, and taking a very sudden interest at some imagined stain on her immaculate white dress uniform, though she was still smiling with that wonderfully sly smile of hers when she noticed me looking, a wink not too far behind.

Was I blushing? Yes, yes I was, my fingers feeling the heat across my reddened cheeks like a furnace... Drat.

"He's gettin' there, though... Eventually. Jasper's been helpin' in his way. Still bein' a prick 'bout it."

"Eventually?" And what did she mean, "helping?" The man was more likely to have me popping a blood vessel than provide any sort of relief.

"I _am_ right here, you know." I realized I was pouting, straightening up quickly in the face of Cherry's silent yet obvious entertainment. She was teasing me again. And here I was wondering why she even bothered. Was it that entertaining? And... why was I complaining?

Right. Because we'd likely be posted together almost entirely on our own outside the General's office as he and the Specialist went about their business.

A perfect chance for her to corner me about the flowers that had mysteriously shown up in her Paladin's cockpit... Oh wait, don't phrase it like that!

I brought a hand to my temple with a low groan, feeling the Badlander's eyes upon me out of the corner of her own eye the whole way.

 _'Really, why did Sergeant Hemlock have to choose_ _ **today**_ _to request some time off?'_

The man _never_ requested time off from his duties, at least not in the time I'd served with him. Travis Hemlock didn't slow a beat, or shirk responsibilities, and he certainly wouldn't have given in to the sniffles.

But nevertheless, he was unavailable, and the call had come through regardless.

Our favorite Specialist absolutely detested being stuck with a detail, as his staff and his overworked assistant had discovered to our folly, but a bodyguard at least for appearance's sake was the general consensus on the ship. Jasper might've been an asset, but that didn't mean he was trusted anywhere near the General or in the Academy itself.

Not to mention he had his hands full, taking the opportunity presented by this curiously lengthening time between assignments to run the rest of JADE and even a few of Red Team's finest through their paces on a tour of Atlas' most challenging obstacle courses and training exercises.

From how he'd described it, and the battered state of Cadets Jin, Claret, and Corvus and all others who went along most days, I chose not to inquire much further.

So, with her precious Paladin undergoing maitenance, Cherry had been more than happy to volunteer to take his place for the day.

And, uncharacteristically, our Commander hadn't complained... _much._ In fact, he almost appeared to take it in stride, cracking something about "leavin' him to run to Daddy again," to which she had answered with a warm giggling smile, and a solid fist to his jaw the moment we'd disembarked.

Really, I often had to wonder what their relationship had been before they'd reunited in Atlas. It was clear they knew each other, I knew that much.

The Ace was the closest of all of us in this little retinue of ours to the former Bandit, aside from - at least I liked to think so - myself.

"Meh, Brute's alright most of the time. Y'all just don't know how to communicate properly," Carson said to her, waving a metallic finger sagely. "Just need to find some common ground, s'all. Like, say... Echo here!"

Wait a second...

"Huh!? M-me!?"

I yelped, the sound suddenly and brutally cut off by the arm wrapping itself around my shoulder, though thankfully not the metal one... Not this time, anyway.

"Precisely! Y'all can make it a... y'know..."

He looked down at me, ignoring my squirming as he continued his march. A few students and soldiers stopped to ogle us as we passed, my cheeks blushing scarlet.

"Echo, give me a fancy word for two people workin' together."

"Huh?... Well, why not simply 'working together?'" I ventured, once I had surrendered to the inevitable, and devoted myself to staying upright. "I think... Um... I think that's alright."

"Nah, too boring. What've I been teachin' ya about showmanship? Spin it with a bit of flair, 'member?"

 _'...What was that about spinning? Oh, wait, I was...'_ A few hasty stumbling steps, and a bit of arm waving enough to keep me upright.

Seems I'd been released from my captivity as we neared yet another staircase, much to Cherry's obvious chagrin, her eyes spotting the elevator located close by wistfully. Another adjustment we'd had to make. The Specialist hated tightly enclosed spaces, elevators especially. I couldn't imagine why, what with his knee and all.

"C'mon, hustle, now! Don't got all day!"

"Right! Um... Well, I..." I fumbled for a moment under my Commanding Officer's demands, collecting my thoughts back into order like a proper Atlesian, before speaking. "A 'joint action,' maybe? Though I don't think it really applies..."

"Hmm, _'joint action..._ '" He repeated the words, as if testing it out, before chuckling to himself and picking up his limping gait, Cherry and I actually struggling to keep up now. "Haha, I like it! Not bad, Garrett!"

"Er, thank you, si... Boss?"

"Jokes aside, weren't you tryin' to say somethin', Echo?"

A gentle hand prodded at my shoulder, her voice closer now. I looked up to see my counterpart nodding her head towards Carson's rapidly retreating back. The look on her face was encouraging, almost enough to make me forget that she'd taken to using the Specialist's silly nickname for me, just like the rest of them.

"Somethin' important you were tryin' to tell our fearless leader?"

"Important. R-right!"

I blushed, slipping back into my annoying habit of repeating on reflex, made all the worse by the fact I knew I was doing it, too. Of course, I couldn't stop now, my CO looking back at us now, sparing Cherry an exasperated glare, and myself with a quizzical expression flitting across unreadable features.

"As I was saying before, maybe you ought to calm down before your meeting? This is the General, after all. It wouldn't do for..."

"You kiddin'?" he chuckled. And to be fair, he did a rather good job of making it convincing. "I mean, look at me. I'm calm! Hell, I'm great! Giddy as a junker in a scrap yard!"

If I hadn't spent the last few months working with him in close proximity, I would've most definitely believed him. But I had, and I didn't.

"With all due respect, sir..." Cherry piped up, taking note of the same thing. Meanwhile, I just kept my back straight, hands clutching my tablet tightly behind my back. "...no, you're really not. Not by a long shot."

For a moment it appeared as though Carson would keep up the denials, his mind obviously racing for another joke, or some means to work around me. I expected it, which was why the heady sigh and the muttered curse caught me off guard.

"Gods, ' _all due respect's'_ gotta be the most Atlesian thing I think I've ever heard ya say, Rouge."

Rather than look angry, however, the Specialist just seemed more annoyed with himself than anything else, scratching at his cheek with a metal fingertip before shivering with sudden realization.

"No... No, you did _not_ just call me ' _Sir!_ '"

"Hehe... Sorry 'bout that, Commander." The pilot winked, running a hand through her curls before snapping off a lazy salute the mirror of that the Specialist always used. I wouldn't admit it, but she pulled it off much better... Or maybe she just looked better. "Thought it only proper..."

Carson held up a hand to stop her, shaking his head and looking downright horrified. "' _Commander_ ' ain't even the right one! Just quit it."

"Aww, that an order, Sir?"

"' _Boss,_ ' dammit! Stop that! It's weird, hearin' you talk all native... No offense, Echo."

Some taken...

"No weirder than how you're actin' now," she admonished him, looking to me for support. A few awkward nods in agreement was more than enough to appease her. "So nervous, practically jumpin' outta yer' skin just 'cause of some Atlas stiff. What happened to the boy I knew back home, goin' on and on about how he was gonna fix things, and spit in the Cogboy's at every turn along the way with a grin and a wink?"

She seemed outwardly jovial, hands on her hips, but I could see through it. It was a front. She was concerned, both at what the General might have in store, and the reaction of what I now realized was clearly an old friend staring down at him from higher up the stairway.

Maybe even more than an old friend. I actually started feeling a bit jealous for a moment, at least until I rationalized how foolish and idiotic such behavior was.

"Cherry's right, si... Uh, Specialist. Boss."

I piped up in agreement, stopping myself before I could add the customary "sir," the Specialist obviously having had more than enough teasing, intentional or otherwise.

A harder task than I thought, the soldier in me aching at the dip in protocol, but sacrifices must be made. Especially with a Commanding Officer like Benjamin Carson...

"It's fine, Echo. Practically expect it by this point." I nodded in acquiescence, drumming out a little tempo against my tablet. "Well? Out with it."

"It's just... Boss, we all know things have been growing tense as of late, what with the rumors spreading around. I can only imagine it's a lot to deal with."

Rumors the Specialist could neither corroborate nor outwardly deny, no doubt, but I couldn't believe that a Specialist wouldn't be up to date and far ahead of the rank and file in matters of security.

Why else would the _Rock Star_ and her crew be held on standby for so long, especially after the last few weeks of near constant activity since the Specialist had been issued the ship. Mission after mission throughout the continent, but now... _Nothing._

Nothing, at least as far as we knew.

"We..." I breathed in a deep breath, throwing caution to the winds and puffing out my chest, "...the rest of the crew, I mean, owes you our lives. And not just for what you did in Vale. The things you've done, that we've been a part of..." It was a risk mentioning the battle - it always was - but today, at this moment, it seemed the only way to make sure the words were heard and hopefully understood. "What I mean to say is, well... W-we've got your back. All of us." I nodded, using the opportunity to lower my eyes to his feet, suddenly unable to maintain eye contact out of sheer embarrassment.

"...Echo... You..."

 _'That's not how you talk to a superior! What would Dad say? What would...!?'_

My mind never got the chance to imagine just what Ash Garret might've said in the face of his son's lack of etiquette, a prosthetic hand falling hard across my shoulder, catching hold of me again. The grip was unyielding, aside from the minor spastic delay, though I could still feel the positive intent behind the gesture, Carson's grin only confirming it.

"Ha! Knew I made the right call pickin' you for this job!" my Commander chuckled, shaking his head as he led the way, subtly leaning his weight into me to compensate for his knee, which I aided in without comment.

Really, it would've been so much easier if he'd settle his stubbornness - at least in this - and use a cane. But like elevators, the blonde boy wouldn't dream of it. Something about " _already looking like one Headmaster."_

"Always knowin' what to say at the right time. It's a rare gift, even if y'all do wind up repeatin' yourself on more than one occasion."

"Repeating...?" I caught myself again, biting my lip in order to halt the old habit at the outset. "Forgive me, Sir..."

"Aw, _c'mon,_ Garrett! What did I just say about that!? It's ' _Boss!_ '" he groaned dramatically, though despite the act, his grin still broke through, the expression infectious, easy. It was a rare glimpse at the Huntsman as I remembered back during the battle, sitting in the open hatch of Redgrave's flyer, picking off Grimm with every shot. "Got me repeatin' junk now, too..."

 _'In fact, this was far better. Less swearing and death-defying aerial stunts this time around...'_ I decided, returning the former rogue's smile as we crested the landing, and stepped onto the appropriate level agreed upon for the meeting, only slightly out of breath from the journey upwards.

Many would've no doubt found this strange, but the General rarely entertained people in his own offices housed further inside the fortress academy, so busy with the myriad duties and tasks he bore as both Commander in Chief of Atlas' military and Headmaster of her Huntsman Academy, that it was often easier to meet in the middle.

More than one of the meetings I'd witnessed happened while on the way to yet another.

"You're right, though. 'Course ya are."

A heavy clap on the shoulder almost shoved me from my feet and sent us both tumbling forward, popping a few vertebrae in my back with enough force to get an audible gasp from me. Carson was quick to apologize, glaring spitefully at his overactive arm before letting the annoyance bleed away.

"What am I freakin' out for? Hell, I wanted this! Somethin' to get us busy again." He eased off my shoulder, jumping and spinning on his good leg with a fair bit of flare and showmanship. "I'm tired of just sittin' around. Tired of dinners and luncheons, and all that blue-blooded nonsense. This is great!"

"We're all eager to get back to work, Boss." This was good. Positive. "Jasper, er... I-I mean Huntsman Fullmark and his team, especially."

"Can only imagine. Psycho was the same way. Never liked sittin' still, always keyed up. Must be some Trapper thing." His tone sounded almost wistful, the Specialist shaking his head at the rare mention of his friend and teammate. "Almost don't even care what kinda mission it is. Long as it keeps Claret in one place and stops her snatchin' every sweet not nailed down, Corvus from makin' whatever trouble he gets to up in those little roosts of his, and Dai Jin from blowin' up the whole damn ship on a whim, I'm happy." Nodding sagely, he looked over his shoulder to where Cherry had stopped ahead of our little procession; a fact we'd missed in our distraction. "What about you, Cher? Bet you're itchin' to... Cherry?"

He frowned, noticing the wide-eyed gaping manner that had stolen the color from the Paladin Ace's features a beat or two before I myself did.

"Rouge, what's...?"

"W-why are _they_ here...?" the pilot stammered, gulping nervously as a cold sweat dripped down her brow. I went to her, giving her shoulder a shake, now thoroughly concerned.

I then following her gaze down the hall, before every muscle in the Specialist's body, both flesh and mechanical, stiffened visibly.

Moving directly across from us strode General James Ironwood himself, evidently deep in conversation with a pair of guests who, going by the thick worn woolen quality of their clothes, seemed to be from outside the Kingdom. Certainly not from Atlas, both sporting thick coats to combat the seasonal chill.

For a second, I wasn't quite sure what the big deal was, both Carson and Cherry having been in the General's presence previously on several occasions. Given what I could see of his face, the hero of Atlas did appear concerned over something, but hardly the anger Ben had described after their last meeting.

I was honestly confused, right up until I saw that neither of the Badlanders had eyes for Ironwood at all.

No, they were clearly intent on the two foreigners: a man and a woman.

The man appeared, for lack of a better term, disheveled. And even that was being overly generous. His clothing and gear, for one thing, from the thick brass, belted leather vest piece and tattered coat, to the threadbare trousers and hide chaps, was in generally weather-beaten condition, though it looked as though some effort had recently been taken to see it cleaned, with minor success. His face was little better, sun-kissed and unshaven, unkempt dusty brown hair streaked liberally with its fair share of grey. His eyes, though, were perfect mirrors to my Commander's. The same shade of verdant green.

His companion couldn't have contrasted more, dressed in a spotlessly pressed leather slacks, a collared shirt and a brown vest, and a long jacket that fluttered as she marched in step with the general. Quite the feat, given how he towered over her. The garment was adorned with a thick blue armband, and a shining golden star-shaped badge pinned at the breast, with a green bandanna wrapped about her neck.

Her resemblance to Carson was even more telling than the first, with her deeply tanned skin, and carefully cut blonde hair, styled in a functional pixie cut with braids clipped tight to the side of her scalp.

I would have opened my mouth, asked what was happening, when the pair stopped upon noticing us, as well, sharing a private glance.

General Ironwood was abruptly caught off guard, much like I was.

"...Benjamin." It was the woman who spoke first, her voice thick with the same accent my fellows used. But it was when she said Carson's name that it was all but confirmed. I realized what the issue was. "It's... It's good to see you. And... Miss Rouge, is it?" A hesitant smile built across her face, though her eyes were like daggers, all aimed squarely at the Atlas Councilman. "We weren't aware you'd be sittin' in with us as well."

Carson was deathly silent, hardly even seeming to breathe, staring intently at the both of them with a look that could've cracked stone.

Cherry currently doing her best to hide behind me without looking like she was. It was a fine line, one she definitely wasn't used to treading. Her face pale as she muttered something about "the Red."

"Ambassador Carson," the General said, the words bringing back memories of quite a few choice rants I'd heard my charge muttering darkly into his cups, drunkenness wiping aside the usual filter.

So this was Carson's mother? That meant the other man must be his father. If anything, their actual presence was somehow worse than even that.

All the former bandit's levity from before was brutally shoved aside and forgotten.

"Benjamin's here on my request. Seeing as he's likely to be affected by what I have to share as well, I felt it would be best for him to hear the news directly from me. I hope that's alright?"

"...W-well, I..."

"It's fine," Carson called over her protests, limping over to make his way past the General into the room he'd prepared. "Let's just get started, General. Somethin' tells me this is gonna be _rich._ "

The man by the Ambassador's side moved to bar his path, heedless of her arm on his, trying to hold him back. "Abby, it's fine," he said, before glancing at my commanding officer, managing to look both glad and trepid at the same time. "...Hey there, Son. You're lookin'... Well, 'good' ain't exactly the word I'd use, but..."

"...William."

It was brisk recognition from uncaring lips, abrupt, spoken in a tone that barely carried the merest hint of respect. Dismissively formal, and it left the other man reeling back a step, almost as though he'd been slapped, giving the Specialist more than enough opportunity to slip past.

He murmured something, almost looking like he'd chase after him, but thought better of it as the woman laid a hand on his arm, speaking softly in his ear.

If the Specialist noticed either reaction, he gave little sign, the look in his eyes darkening in a way that sent shivers down my spine.

And then he, the woman, and the General disappeared into his chambers, the door closing behind them, leaving me and Cherry standing outside with the woman's bodyguard... or husband, to be more exact. The man's face was stricken, like he'd just been stabbed. The two of us exchanged nervous looks.

Especially when the muffled sounds of shouting began to echo in earnest.

* * *

 ** _-Maxine Argus-_**

...I had the fucking dreams again. Just like before... Same as almost every night since first opening my eyes after being rescued.

Places I couldn't remember, let alone imagine. People and faces I didn't know... or at least thought I didn't. All of it flashing by, one after the other, in quick succession, similar to a film reel or art debut that had degraded over time. Spotty in places, crucial details missing, things in the script or the paints that should've been there, but just... _weren't_.

Falkner had cried "lingering trauma and stress" when I'd first begrudgingly told her of them. The Doctor had assured me the nightly visions would fade given time, and grow less frequent as I "recovered."

I'd been tortured, broken, and in the months since had exposed myself to more than a few sights and acts - some of them my own - that would give most people pause. Blood Hounds weren't exactly known for holding back in their lives, after all. So it only made sense that my mind would be trying to compensate for what had been lost or the stuff it couldn't comprehend... right?

 _'Bullshit...'_

It didn't feel right. Waking up most mornings covered in sweat, wiping hot tears from reddened eyes hastily to make sure others didn't see. _That_ wasn't how things were supposed to be.

The explanation making sense, sure, at least from my limited perspective, though it always felt... or _smelt_ like she was hiding something. Of course, it wasn't like she was in a talking mood during our early "sessions," far more invested in making sure I was the one providing details of anything and everything, rather than giving away snippets in return.

" _How I was adjusting?_ " " _Was I eating enough?_ " " _Have I experienced difficulties with my Semblance?_ " Question after question. All of it so damned clinical, like I was some test subject rather than a patient...

Which, knowing what I did now of the Doctor's... nature, made me all the more glad I'd finally told her I'd had enough... In less polite terms, sure, the words "fuck" and "off" coming up more than once in particular.

Not a smart move, probably in hindsight, but being around her always made me feel like I was under a microscope, or just reminded me of what I'd heard after leaving her alone with Dad...

Regardless, the dreams came once more, and tonight was even worse than the others... if not for the reasons I would've expected.

Usually, they were hastily cobbled together things; all activity or sensation. The mad rush of combat against walking nightmares flickering out of sequence with reality, half warped conversations and emotions lost, along with their context, and leaving only frustration and other less savory emotions in their stead.

This one was different... starting off slow.

I was on a rooftop at night... at least I thought I was... Certainly somewhere high and in the dark... which left me nervous for some odd reason. Far below swam a sea of indistinct lights and sounds, both close and oh-so distant. A thing of beauty that paled in comparison to the sky above. Explosions of color tore through the stars in bursts of elemental brilliance, each bloom flowering to life into eccentric displays of fire, ice, and lighting. All mixing and colliding with each other in sublime ways I would've thought unimaginable before fading, only to be replaced by more and more.

Pretty as a painting... More than any I'd ever seen before.

It was _wondrous._ And whats more, it _held..._

The structure of the dream kept itself together long after the point most others would've been snatched away. I also wasn't alone, the moment shared with an indistinct figure rooted in my consciousness by the distant memory of a distinct scent. One I couldn't quite shake, even if I'd wanted to, which, to my own dull surprise, I didn't. That alone really should've given me some pause, but... rather than flinch away from this person... I wanted nothing more than to get closer. The aroma of Dust, gunpowder, oil, and apples was so thick about them, I could actually _taste_ it.

The moment was terrifying, exhilarating, confusing, and perfectly reasonable all in one... and I wanted _more._

A notion we both shared, it seemed...

When we came together, it was none of the aggression that had been present with Cerise, our hands not pawing at one each others clothes or seeking dominance over one another.

If anything, it was awkward, my hands trembling all the while, but there was passion, too. And a gentleness I hadn't quite suspected. Nerves and discomfort faded as things progressed, replaced by that sense of "right" I had been searching for without even knowing it; a fullness I couldn't quite explain. The rhythm building in my breast was undeniable... one that beat swiftly but fiercely in time with...

 _' **...Who,** exactly?...'_

A sound painfully akin to a sob ripped itself from my throat, followed swiftly by a snarl as the wonderful scene was rent apart by that one question, and the dream ended as like all the others. With me falling, tumbling into a roiling darkness that stole away all the happiness and joy, straight into the writhing tendrils of a presence at once bitterly jealous, and oh-so confident of its own fragile superiority.

Fragile, yes... but that didn't matter.

My dream self writhed helplessly as whatever had wrapped its grasp around me began to tighten and pierce, ripping into my being as I howled helplessly into the dark in utter frustration and panic. My mind seethed, assaulted by even more images now, alongside feelings of hurt, betrayal, and anger... so _much_ anger...

But it _was_ _ **MINE!**_

Fire burned through my veins, tearing reason from me, hands grasping for the handles of weapons suddenly gunning to life in hand, a beast I'd always known was there growling viciously in my soul, searing away the fear with only an indescribable fury at what this presence - this _MONSTER_ \- had stolen from me, the violation it had inflicted...

I wan't afraid of it. No... I was _pissed_.

And bereft of all else, my pleasant moments and the one I'd shared them with torn from me, I stoked that anger, letting it blaze freely. All that was left was crimson hot red, and the thing that had broken me so completely, the thing I was going to break in turn... and godsdamn it, I _roared!_

 _"_ _ **SONIAAA!**_ _"_

* * *

" _Gaaah!?_ "

Bloodshot eyes snapped open, and I lurched upright so quickly and with such fierce intensity, my nails tore the already-mangled sheet of thin, sweat-soaked bedding that was all I'd worn to tatters, heart thundering in my breast like a drum. Ragged breaths fell from trembling lips, catching in between snarls, gasps, and the barest hint of whimpers that died in my throat before I could give them voice.

I muttered instead in an attempt to distract from the residual memories of the dream, " _voicing the feelings,_ " like Cerise had been suggesting these last few nights, choosing to be creative rather than bottling them up.

" _Tch!_... Dammit, shit, shit, fucking, hungover bit of a Grimm-spawned sack of...!"

 _'Yeah... **Real** creative.'_

Knuckling my damp brow, shoulders still heaving erratically, I clenched my jaw so tight it ached. I had to calm down, find something else to focus on.

Maybe it was just another sign of how messed up my mentality was getting that it took punching myself a good three times, the shock and irritation at the blunt pain overriding the fear. Usually, it just took one good slap.

I certainly didn't care. It worked, didn't it?

Well enough for me to notice that I now sat alone in the bedraggled mess I'd made of the bedspread, which definitely hadn't been the case when I'd closed my eyes.

A blush spread swiftly across my cheeks at the thought followed by what could only be the beginnings of a silly stupid grin. Both unwanted reactions were soundly beaten back down by curiosity and a touch of concern for where my wayward, uh... "dance partner" had gone to.

From what I'd come to expect of a certain Spider Faunus over our last few... um. "performances," she wasn't the type to run off and abandon her prizes. Instead, she preferred to keep watch over the "little puppy caught in her web," so to speak.

 _'Heh. Charlotte Cerise. Feared warrior of APEX, and a terrible dirty talker...'_

As embarrassing as it was, I hadn't asked, and she didn't explain. That was how we worked this... I didn't want to say "relationship." That didn't sound right. It was more of a "mutually entertaining diversion in a stressful environment," or that's what she'd said, anyway.

Whatever "this" was, it felt nice. And contrary to some of the whispers I'd heard from Swart and Iblis' ilk, it did _NOT_ prevent Cerise from shoving my face into the dirt during training _at all._ If anything, she only had a better grasp of my weak spots now...

 _Aaaaand_ I'm blushing again. Fuck.

More importantly, to me anyway, it left me sleeping better than I had for weeks... At least it had been, until now.

My ears perked up at the sound of running water echoing from the washroom, running water and something low and muffled. My whole body suddenly went on full alert, until reason took the wheel again. A dim light radiated from a crack in the dented doorway, steam wafting gently from within.

"Cerise?" I called, extricating myself from the mess of ravaged cloth and fluff of the bed with only a bit of difficulty, weary muscles aching in protest. Grimacing at the chill, I stooped to snatch up scattered articles of previously discarded clothing tossed about the room the night before from amidst the piles of similar wear, going by scent alone. "Cerise, you in there?"

A stupid question. I knew fully well that she was inside; I could smell her. That unique sweet aroma that lingered about every veteran Blood Hound, yet clung so fiercely to the Spider Faunus that I'd started to just associate the two with one another.

...But it was mixed with a heady, copper scent of something familiar. Something far more worrying.

"You showering or cooking in there?" I called, laughing along at the poor excuse for a joke, until frowning upon receiving no answer in return. "I'm coming in, so if you're... uh..."

What, "decent?" I'd already seen far more of my superior and friend to toss those silly hang ups aside, and that was _before_ we'd started our little tryst.

Gulping reflexively, pulse racing at the stench, I reached out and palmed open the door, blinking at the sudden onrush of heat.

The tiled space was sweltering, the air hazing over with steam. Mirrors fogged to dripping nothingness, the faucets practically smoking with moisture, weathering the strain of those near-to-boiling streams. Gods, just a few seconds and I was already sweating, clothes be damned.

And crouched in the middle of it all, sitting in a hazy pool of crimson that poured from where her nails had dug into her palms with force enough to break the skin, was my superior. The Faunus' back and arms were marked out in a tapestry of vivid crimson fang tattoos of the same shade, dark pupils glazed over. Her face was pale, with her veins almost clearly visible... and matte black.

" _Charlie!_ " I was down on the floor in front of her in an instant, not sure really what to do, or how to help her. "Hey, hey! Charlie, it's Maxi! What happened!? Why are you...!? C-Charlie?"

All the while, despite my efforts to get her attention, she was muttering to herself in a low hoarse tone, as if she'd been going on for a while now without stopping. " _I'm a little spider, now come and watch me spin..._ " It was almost sing-songy in its own way, and all the creepier for it. A cold chill ran its course down my own spine, despite the heat. " _And if you'll be my dinner, I'll let you come on in..._ "

"Cerise? What's the matter with...!?"

I reached out a tentative hand, just barely grazing her shoulder; a tap really. The next thing I knew, I was spread eagle on the damp floor, the back of my head pounding from where it had struck the tile, and my chest aching with the telltale pain of heavy bruising. When did that happen? How...?

"Wha...!?"

Spittle and bile coughed from my lips. A shadow hovered over me, barely visible through a haze both physical and mental due to the shock of the hit I couldn't even remember taking, rearing its long slender arm back to strike...

Trained reflex and pure animal instinct kicked in, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I rolled aside to avoid a fist that crashed into the space exactly where my head had been only a heartbeat before.

The strike cratered the dingy porcelain, and sent chips clattering against my stuttering Aura, only now springing to life as I lay there heaving and coughing with a face full of lukewarm water, gazing upon the face of my would-be attacker.

Charlotte - eyes wild and alive where they'd once seemed empty, with her hair disheveled and the red streaks of both her tattoos and the vitae from her palms mixing across her skin - pulled her fist out, bloodied and raw, from the floor with a crunch of pale shards and the masonry beneath.

And that smile... That godsdamned smile of glee and utter delight shot through with traces of something feral and unrestrained.

" _Then I'll spin a web so tight, and gobble you up in_ _ **one BIG BITE!**_ "

I had to move, had to run!... But I was clumsy! Only just managing to get to my feet, I slipped in sliding before she shoulder checked me bodily across the threshold and through the air to smash into what had once passed as her dresser, now a pile of jagged timber that barely served to cushion the impact.

Not that it would've done much, anyway.

That hit alone could've put those Arbor Gigas Grimm from days before to shame, leaving me winded and gasping for what air I could before it was abruptly and brutally cut off. Long sender fingers wrapping about my throat, lifting me kicking and squirming into the air like I weighed nothing at all, unyielding and unbreakable.

What's more, she burned, her skin practically scalding my clammy flesh with the sheer levels of heat radiating from the APEX in waves, her heartbeat all I could hear, aside from my on pitiful whining gasps.

I couldn't focus. I clawed at her arm desperately, and kicked at any thing I could reach for all I was worth, but it was like scraping against stone for all the good it did. The pressure was building and building, to the point I almost imagined I could hear the _*krik-crack*_ of vertebrae shifting in my neck.

My vision was blurring fast, the mad visage of my friend - and very likely killer - swimming in and out of focus as motes of red began to swim at the corners of my awareness, until it hurt too much to keep them open, plunging me into utter suffocating blackness...

 _'I'm going to die... I'm... gonna die... Oh... Oh_ _ **FUCK NO!**_ _'_

Eyes snapping open with carmine-colored malice, I screamed with all the air still left to me. Delving deep within myself, I drew on that desperation and fear, turning it towards my attacker with all the meager strength I had left.

It must've been a hell of a lot, the Spider Faunus letting out a screeching, predatory hiss as she was blasted back towards the bed, the frame imploding inward on itself, and burying my fellow Blood Hound in blankets and warped mattress.

It wouldn't hold her for long, that much was obvious. My attack barely even slowed her down, Charlotte already tearing and screeching like a thing possessed to work herself free. And here I was on the ground, tears stinging at my eyes, gasping for every lungful of precious air I could manage.

 _'What's happening!? Why's she attacking me!? What...? Why...!?'_

A thousand questions ran through my mind, but I couldn't afford to focus on them, merely trying to stay conscious as a howling shape flew at me from across the room, expecting my last image to be that of a snarling young woman who I'd only a few hours before been doing my best to make laugh. Who had been smiling at me like I was a particularly delicious morsel... now taken far too literally.

I didn't know why, but gods be damned if I was gonna die on my knees. _Hell no._ If I was going down, it was going to be with my fist shoved squarely right down her...!

I vaguely registered the sound of a door opening, light spilling into the space, and the rapid stomp of footfalls crashing against stone before, once again, a hand snatched hold of my neck, this one far larger, and thankfully only held on long enough to throw me from the room in a crumpled heap.

For her part, Charlotte barely had time to snarl another wordless screech before a bandaged fist drove itself home into her stomach mid leap, driving her up into the ceiling, sending down contrails of dust in her wake before falling to the ground, only to be kicked back into the nest of blankets she'd vacated not a few seconds before.

This time she stayed, hissing and crying out in wailing gasps, sparks of crimson energy pulsing across her Aura, tearing into her, and leaving her a twitching mess of misfiring nerve endings and ripping fury.

Silent, without even a word of acknowledgement, my father strode from the room and slammed the heavy slab-like portal shut with a grunt, bolting it shut, and not a moment too soon. The metal bulwark rocked and juddered under the sustained efforts of the thing inside trying its best to get out. Ears aching from the assault - his too, I imagined - we stood there... Well, _he_ stood.

Me? I was flat on my ass, rubbing at my neck, doing my best to meld into the wall and get as far from the source of the noise as I could, heartbeat toning down second by second, but not nearly fast enough...

" _That_..." Conan said, breaking the awkward stillness between us with a voice that grated like a knife against a whetstone, raising a finger to motion towards Charlotte's quarters, "...is why our doors lock from the outside... I remember you asked once." On cue the doorway shook, metal warping subtly, even as I watched. "A demonstration for ya, too. It works."

"W-wha... W-what happened!?" I stammered, hating how weak my voice sounded, throat still aching and bruised, no doubt, while my Aura struggled to repair what damage it could. "What the hell happened!?"

"The Butcher happened," the Blood Hound leader replied curtly, as if that explained everything. He must've seen the look on my face, or decided to be kind and grace me with more than that bullshit. "Charlotte... She's been adjusting her dosage lately. Falkner's doing, with her permission. Unfortunately, when you've been exposed to it for as long as she has, _that's_ what happens when you start re-regulating."

The way he spoke... It was so clinical, just like the Doctor. I hated it, as much as I wanted to have it close and at hand.

"...Why?"

The whimper caught him off guard - caught _me_ off guard - making him turn to acknowledge me, only to turn away swiftly with a curse, and what might have been an awkward *tsk.*

Dimly, I became aware of the fact I was sitting in a public hallway with my father and commander, wearing little more than soaked-through, barely-clinging rags after just having been literally pulled from my superiors quarters...

Not a lot of guesswork to figure out what happened, even if we'd hardly worked at keeping it secret.

It was still humiliating... Then I realized I didn't much give a damn at the moment.

"Why would she do that?"

From what little I knew, the "Song," as it was called, was nigh-irresistible after the Brew's first few doses. It was feeling that gnawed at the corners of your mind, a crooning thirst that slowly rewrote priority and reason, until one couldn't quite live without it.

I'd seen its effect on the battlefield - on my allies - several times before. But never up close like that, fighting for my life, without any sign or reasoning behind it.

The Brew was supposed to be targeted, if wild, but not...not whatever had just happened back there.

" _You_ , I expect."

" _M-me_? I don't...!?" I let out a sharp gasp as my world suddenly went dark, sense kicking back in as I realized with a start he'd stripped to the waist.

The other Faunus had tossed his shirt/tunic my way, inadvertently revealing the extent of vivid crimson tattoos, much the same style as Charlotte herself wore, to the point some inspiration had to have been drawn, running across the breadth of his torso across sculpted muscle, accenting the extensive scarring.

Oddly enough, most of it didn't seem to have originated how one might expect. There were clear signs of blade and bullets both, but the major ones were from something that looked sickeningly like a whip. His back was easily the worst, the sight of it setting the taste of acid on my tongue.

I was almost thankful for the brief reprieve I got pulling down the coarse fabric over my eyes. All in all, it didn't cover much, but it did something to protect my modesty.

"Maybe she was more afraid of what she might do under the effects of the Song than what she might try without it," he explained while rolling his shoulders, rounding suddenly and delivering a harsh kick to the metal face of the door, the sound enough to make me cry out in pain, and send Charlotte no doubt skittering back from the door, suddenly wary.

Not that it stopped her, the sound of breaking furniture and tearing cloth soon resuming from deeper within.

"Didn't say it was smart. Stupid girl. You'd think she'd have learned by now... _And you!_ "

I stiffened at the rise in his tone, freezing mid attempt to work myself to my feet, caught under the weight of that gaze, unable to move. The feeling of it was not so dissimilar to that I'd just experienced. In fact, it might've been even worse. In reality, he wasn't much taller than I was, but from this vantage point, the difference between us was staggering.

"S-Sir?" I didn't even think to call him " _Dad._ " I hardly thought I'd be able to.

Whether he noticed or not he didn't show it, merely cricking his neck, a beckoning for me to follow. "Well?... On your feet! I have an assignment for you. You and your Pack."

"An... A-an assignment? What do you...?"

This wasn't what I'd been expecting at all. A mission, after weeks of sitting around, sharpening our steel, and chomping at the bit? Especially after... _this?_ That didn't make any sense at all. I should be getting chewed out, yelled at, punished... Unless...

"Wait a second, you said my Pack?"

"That's what I said, Alpha." I frowned, ears twitching off beat. Not at the harsh, dismissive tone he'd taken on, though that was still a blow. It was the fact he'd referred to me by the subjective rank I'd earned, one he'd always seemed more than willing to deny. "You said you all wanted out; to be doing something. I've decided to grant you your wish."

My wish... To be treated not as his daughter, but as a soldier under his command.

...I should've been happy. But in the wake of the morning I'd had... Speaking of which...

"So then... what about Charlie?... Cerise, I mean?"

I looked back towards the way we had come, the sounds of her rage still easily audible. The clamor was still reverberating off the walls.

She was our leader; the Alpha among Alphas that my little Pack of misfits in our mad group followed into the fight. She'd seen us into the Blood Hounds, trained with us, called us out for every assignment and mission.

"Is she...?"

"Doubtful. She'll be needing time to come back to herself. Once she's calmed down enough that someone can get some Brew in her."

The way he said it was so easy, like he could've just been talking about a bad cold his subordinate would need to get over.

"I'm transferring you to Swart's command- ah, no arguing! You lost that chance!" He headed me off quickly, obviously expecting one. "You'll want his numbers for what this job entails, and he'll want you and Marley. Cooper, too, if he'd stop fumbling with that damned knife like some amateur. "

I would've argued the point. I should've argued it, really.

It was _my_ Pack. _I'd_ been the one to earn their loyalty. Not a conniving bastard like Swart looking to bite off more than he could chew. Any other day, I would've shouted it out to high heaven, or grumbled defiantly under my breath... But not today.

Today, I just wondered about something. Something that I realized bothered me far more than I wanted to admit.

"...Dad?" He didn't show any outward expression, not on his face, but his ear twitched. Basically Dog Faunus for "I'm listening, even if I don't want to be." A good sign, then. It meant I wasn't being ignored. "What happened with Cerise... The Song. Does that... Do you...?"

"Yes," he replied, sensing the question, and all too ready with the answer. "Yes, it does... When I think about what happened to your mother, or what happened to you... Those are the worst nights."

His fingers twitched at his sides, unnoticed by the man himself, but all too obvious to me from where I strode beside him.

"And no. You will never see me like that. Not so long as I can help it, Maxi."

That was the point. The thing I couldn't get off my mind as I followed along in his wake meekly like some scolded puppy, staring at the scars gauged into his flesh, unable to keep myself from the darker musings.

Exactly how long would he be able to help it before he wound up just like Charlotte?

Or hell, something far worse...

* * *

 _ **-Reika Murasaki-**_

Rowan's Frontier. A place bereft and distant from those great Kingdoms of Mankind. Far from the progress of Atlas, or the artistic virtue of Mistral.

A savage land dominated by the soulless Creatures of Grimm, some of which were so ancient as to be unknowable, as well as a hostile environment utterly inimitable to all but the hardiest souls. It's people eagerly stepped up to that challenge, giving birth to barbaric cultures that prided strength, endurance, and survival above all else, to the extent of many unsavory rumors circulating through the Kingdoms as to how any but the most disturbed or feral peoples could hope to thrive, if they were believed at all.

To many, the thought of organized civilization outside the Kingdoms was unfathomable, though now they knew better I supposed. The whole of the region was in armed rebellion, striking out against those who had written them off as a savage fantasy, or ignorant savages seeking to hide from the world.

The place Joel Ambrose, leader of Team AMBR and a dear friend of mine, had been born. From what I'd seen of his homeland so far - and even then that was not much - I had to admit, I could believe a place like this had birthed a man like him.

If I'd had to describe my first glimpse in one word... " _Imposing._ " Definitely " _imposing,_ " if a fair bit mysterious at that.

Standing there on an open air deck, centered near the forward prow of the _Prism,_ gawking open-mouthed alongside Pino and Shean as mists spawned by the Shipswain's Semblance, a thick blanket that habitually surrounded and roiled about the craft at all times began to be subsumed in the face of a dense milky fog far more virulent.

Slowly at first, creeping like tendrils across the ship's hull, and feeling almost like a palpable weight on my bare skin.

"Incredible," Pino gaped, gulping audibly while running a gloved hand through the worst of the fog, wisps forming in his fingertips. "I've never seen the like." He flinched as Shean clapped him across the back, an unwitting spectator dragged along while I followed meekly in their wake, the boatswain practically carrying him towards an observation deck.

"Oh-ho, you ain't seen nothing yet, my boy. Just you wait!" Pino chuckled weakly at the man's enthusiasm, and the ominous tone in his voice.

Outlines presented only the vaguest suggestions of towering, jagged-edged cliff faces rising from the seas around us, edifices curving and writhing as to appear monstrous with the lack of definition.

 _Iron Blossom_ was already up and coming about at the first sign of movement in those nigh-impenetrable depths, a sound echoing through the air like a crooning harmonic dance that set the hairs on the back of my neck on end, Pino's whimpers muffled by his mask.

Panic gripped me, as did the song, so I listened to the bells instead, allowing the ringing foretone to soothe my frayed nerves.

Still, it wasn't as if I stood immobile. My whole body tensed and eased in preparation for a fight, turning to face the disturbance yet to come, only to hesitate at the the Bat Faunus' raised hand and voice.

"Careful, lass. Dragon's Coast ain't the kinda place one wants to move through hastily. Or go for a swim." He gestured with his limb, my eyes following the motion towards where I'd seen the flicker of motion, the mists parting momentarily to reveal something covered in sleek, dark-scaled plumage, burning red orbs staring back at me before it was gone a moment later, consumed once more as if it had never been. "If the riptide or rocks don't getcha first, the wildlife will! Let's avoid that little unpleasantness, shall we? We're almost home."

 _"Home?"_ I signed the words, Pino translating for me, though to be fair, I wasn't quite sure how much the other man needed his aid by this point, seemingly able to follow along after only days of exposure. Enough to make a few joking retorts at my expense, anyway... Looking about at the mist, for what good it did, I was stumped. _"How can you be...!?"_

" _Ymm ryhtc pnyla!_ "

A deafening call went out, echoing across the whole of the ship and carried in a circuit of running mouths, culminating moments before my signing was cut brutally short. The entire length of the vessel pitched and lurched sharply underfoot, putting Pino and I flat on the deck, stomachs lurching.

The _Prism_ groaned from keel to stern, the metals and wood of its construction straining under a rush of pure and sudden elemental force.

"You'll know 'cause the waters go completely to shite! _Haha!_ " Shean cried out over the cacophony, standing by contrast with one hand firmly clasping a section of rigging pipe, whistling as though the ship didn't sound as though it would be ripped in half as oceanic pressures assailed it from all sides.

Alert sirens welled up from fluted metal horns set at intervals along the wall, the entire crew springing into action as one. All except the three of us.

Visually, it was all rather impressive, the sight of so many scrambling to pre-arranged points, working in near perfect concert.

Through the gaze of my Semblance, it was something all together more amazing, souls working flitting and fitting together into a web of interconnected purpose directed by one overarching will standing so close, shining so bright.

Instinctively, my head turned towards it, the sight of an extended booth section towards the aft section of the craft above us, wreathed in cloths of various colors and symbols, accenting the many faces that hurried about within working at knobs and levers, consulting fluttering charts and glowing filimant devices.

And at the heart of that organized chaos... Harper Majorelle, singing freely to the chorus of all in earshot, the sound of it vibrating my lungs with its fervor.

" ** _Oh, we'd be alright if the wind was in our sails...!_** "

" ** _We'd be alright if the wind was in our sails...!_** "

" ** _We'd be ALRIGHT if the wind was in our sails...!_** "

" ** _And we'll all hang on behind...!_** "

Standing at the helm in all his finery, uncaring for all the sopping lace and the wind that threatened to tear the foppish wig from his head, Majorelle stood proud before a dented guiding wheel of brass, sapphire, and inlaid pearl larger than I was. The metal rotated at such a rate that sparks flew from its surface, what fires it started in cloth and hair swiftly snuffed out by the sea salt spraying through the air along with the mist now.

A glimpse over the side did me no favors. Rather than the rough tides before, it seemed as though the entire ocean had become a sea of roiling cauldrons, or gaping maws seeking to swallow even a ship the size of the _Prism_ into its depths wholesale... And we were diving straight towards one.

" ** _And_ _we'll ro-o-oll this old chariot along!_** "

" ** _We'll ro-o-oll the Captain's chariot along!_** "

" ** _We'll ro-o-oll this old chariot along!_** "

" ** _And we'll all hang on behind..!_** "

 _'What is that idiot doing!? He'll kill us all'_

"...!"

I gaped, feeling rather than hearing the immense roar of the monumental typhoon the _Prism_ now faced, lightning coursing through the skies followed by booming claps of thunder that reverberated in constant rhythm.

Even as I watched on in silent awe, a bolt of lightning that looked to be of a size with Beacon Tower lit the sky like a miniature sun, searing across my retinas, and throwing up a great welter of super-heated salt water. Other smaller strikes even struck home against the craft, the charge dissipated to a point by stanchions positioned along the hull.

All of my strength, all of my training and experience, so many years of struggling and fighting to survive... But I couldn't fight this, raw nature itself in all its terrible glory. A hand clutched mine, Pino staring at the same sight I had, his grip clammy and shaking. He was afraid according his Aura. Terrified, but he was trying to hide it behind his mask for my sake.

Still, I had to wonder if he even realized he was singing too, adding his sound to the fervor, even if he didn't know the words. A clarion call to challenge the waves as Shean looped ropes around our waists, invisible for all we noticed.

 _ **"Oh, we'd be alright if we make it round The Wrath"**_

 _ **"We'd be alright if we make it round The Wrath"**_

 _ **"We'd be alright if we make it round The Wrath"**_

 _ **"And we'll all hang on behind..."**_

Guided by skill, foreknowledge, or pure instinct, the Captain waited until seemingly the last possible moment. When the ship was mere seconds - heartbeats - away from destruction, he acted.

Tugging sharply at the wheel and calling out a barking string of orders, each acted upon before it had even left his mouth. With a howl to rival any Grimm, the _Prism's_ engines exploded into sudden violent life, tearing at the water, and knifing the great craft through the surf, and even the air at some points.

And all the while, the tune continued, begun by the Captain and carried by every throat on the vessel but my own...

 _ **"And we'll ro-o-oll this old chariot along!"**_

 _ **"We'll ro-o-oll the Captain's chariot along!"**_

 _ **"We'll ro-o-oll this old chariot along!"**_

 _ **"And we'll all hang on behind..!"**_

Rather than be torn apart by the force of guiding his craft through the maelstrom, Majorelle merely glowed, both literally and figuratively, Aura allowing him the strength to arrest the craft's course, and push it back into line. The mere sight of it... Man versus Nature.

 _'Incredible...'_

* * *

 _Rowan's Wrath..._

That was the name for the weather pattern that had nearly killed us all. The gateway to the Frontier.

Named for their legendary queen, or so Shean had explained it hours later in the hold, long after the danger had passed and the crew had been able to settle into something resembling calm.

The waters were still unbearably ragged to the point I suspected the vessel Pino and I had been on previously would've been ripped to flotsam within mere minutes.

A natural barrier that raged in near perpetuity, discouraging all but the bravest and hardiest of seafaring vessels from attempting the crossing, and even then death was almost a certainty if one didn't know the ever-shifting currents.

A map system of paths upon which a ship could use to navigate the dangers, but one that shifted patterns near constantly. Those presented at one point might change. Whether in a day, an hour, a minute... It required the use of specially designed instruments, though Shean boasted Majorelle rarely, if ever, required their use.

Pino wasn't convinced. Such things should've been impossible, or so the Healer had presented it. Dust could have strange influences on nature, that much I knew. I'd heard tales of floating islands and miniature blizzards appearing in deserts, but even so, I found it hard to believe even Nature's Wrath could possibly drive such a storm.

Apparently, the Frontier was a land of many such mysteries, none easily explained, and most consistently deadly.

" _Rusafynt puiht!_ "

"She's a nasty maiden, our home is," the Bat Faunus snickered at the sound of that foreign call, guiding us back out into the sunlight, or what passed for sunlight through choked storm clouds, but the mists had finally let up at least. Feeble rays shimmered down to reveal bone-white cliffs stretching along a winding coastline, sinuous, like a serpent... or a dragon.

"Once in her embrace, she'll guard you jealously. But dare to leave, and she's a right bitch lettin' you back in." He pointed towards the ivory line, beaming that monstrous, inhuman grin of his. "But gods, what a sight it is to see, isn't it?"

It was, I supposed. Though I was a bit confused, especially when I realized we were drifting towards a great jaw-toothed opening in the cliff face. The sheer scope and shape evoked the sense we were being devoured as the maelstrom had, though into this, the _Colorless Prism_ sailed on willingly.

Then Pino and I realized what the Boatswain had been talking about. The _Prism_ blared her horns in deafening exultation at her return. Joining to the mania that already swept through the city, a riot of color, song, dance, and fireworks that lit fizzled through the air overhead, before bursting in gouts of brilliant stars.

"Welcome, both of you!" Shean swept his arms wide before collapsing against the railing, almost tumbling off, but drawing in a deep longing breath the whole way. "Welcome to Mooring! City of Freedom, for all who know the costs."

I might've dwelt on that last bit, but I was far too busy staring at the roughly cylindrical chasm that made up this hidden cove to worry overmuch.

Rows upon rows of multi-leveled walkways and buildings lined the walls, much of it constructed from the scavenged hulls of ships, and worked into the system, stacked atop one another in winding circuits of hanging bridges and cave mouths that must've traveled for miles along the circumference of the natural redoubt, in turn each of those circuits winding into a dozen different pathways spread throughout the city.

All of it somehow was connected and dominated by a monolithic pillar of stone and colored coral, wreathed in outposts, lavish balconies, and crowned by a blazing torch of signal flame that burned too hot and too bright to be anything less than Dust-born, its light spreading illumination to every point of the cavern.

So large, even a ship like the _Coloreless_ _Prism_ felt tiny in comparison, though still a league ahead of most other craft I saw filling the bay like ants swarming about the towers base. From great galleons cutting swathes towards various ports worked into the lower sections, to the small gondolas and Netan I saw flitting about between ships and such with insane abandon.

A near-perfect skyline hanging above, clouds of roughshod-looking airships ferrying supplies, manpower, and a thousand other trivialities wished for by the Princes that called Mooring their paradise.

From there, they governed and provided for their people. From there, they ruled their kingdom away from the Kingdoms.

Innovation, ingenuity, and above all, a sense of strength and bravado that was quite unlike anything I'd ever witnessed before, even throughout the dramatic environments of the Badlands...

 ** _"And we'll ro-o-oll this old chariot along!"_**

 ** _"We'll ro-o-oll the Captain's chariot along!"_**

 ** _"We'll ro-o-oll this old chariot along!"_**

 ** _"And we'll all hang on behind..!"_**

 ** _"...Oh, a nice hot meal won't do us any harm."_**

 ** _"Oh, a toss in the groves won't do us any harm."_**

 ** _"Oh, the beasts down below won't do us any harm."_**

 ** _"Because to Mooring Docks we go."_**

 ** _"To-o-owards Mooring Docks lies Home..."_**

* * *

 _ **-Joel Ambrose-**_

 _'The Festival of Lights'_ Of course I'd heard of it. Impossible not to, around here...

It had been the talk of the small town, excitement building throughout the usually passive citizens of Akai-Hana. Maidens blushing and whispering at passersby, boisterous souls preparing decorations and hocking seasonal wares while elders looked on contentedly.

Much of it I was rather ignorant of, seeing as I'd spent my days working the kitchens or patrolling the surrounding wilds and marshlands where I felt comfortable.

Of course, the festival had made itself known in other ways as well, my hunts once so eventful becoming almost fruitless as the Grimm simply vanished, perhaps repulsed by the sheer scale of positivity.

And then there had been a certain blushing Snake Faunus who had marched up to me red-faced in front of the whole tavern, asking if I would escort her.

After that, I wasn't quite sure what to expect.

Not Anbā's parental warnings about propriety, and the raucous nature of such a night between young souls and such that left me feeling like I'd just been scolded by Goodwitch, or the charged silences from Liz that left me scratching my head in bewilderment.

And certainly not something this _loud._ Small villages, I guess...

"...You know, Thom, it's been nagging at me for a while now..." Asagi's voice hissed conspiratorially into my ear, shocking me out of the distracted daze I'd worked myself into, doing my best not to step on any toes in my flailing attempts to dance.

The Faunus took eager advantage of the whirling cascades of colors and flickering Dust lanterns swaying in the fresh spring breeze to tumble in close against my chest and push me out of the throng and off to the side of the wooden decking laid out for the event.

"Huh!?"

Her words were almost lost amidst stomping feet and boisterous laughter from all sides, couples spinning and twisting across the laid out wooden platform in a welter of colorful silks that shifted shades the longer one looked.

The men were dressed rather casually, though much of the distraction came from the way the illumination played off the fabric of the women's festival attire, most arrayed in yukata painfully similar to those Reika and Blake had worn.

In fact, a lot of things were familiar in this moment, the audial and visual assault on my amplified senses not unlike the Beacon Dance I'd attended months before. With less explosions and foam, of course.

 _'By her blood, was it really only months...?'_

It felt more like a lifetime had passed, making a fool of myself on a different dance floor, a very different blonde girl in my arms...

 _'Yang... She would've loved every moment of this...'_

Cheering revelers, from young children dawdled on their parent's knees to time-worn elders hunched over canes, clapped in time to the band's rhythm while feasting on the spoils brought in with the first spring harvest and a few lucky foraging parties.

The whole village was in attendance, celebrating the fading of Winter's chill, and the start of Spring's renewal.

Families and friends, together and happy... It wasn't hard at all to imagine Ruby and Weiss being chased by hordes of screaming kids, Blake and Maxine arguing over drinks while Anbā supervised them with the usual matronly grace I'd come to expect of her. Ben perched on the tabletop, fascinating whole crowds with tales of grand adventure while Reika picked pockets and garnered tips... And Yang...

"If you don't mind me asking, of course," she said after a fashion, as if afraid she'd offended me.

"I don't...?"

" _Great!_ " And like that she was back, confidence rising though I could sense the nervousness in every motion

Brushing a lock of hair from her face, the rest done up in a complex bun, Asagi took advantage of our contact to take firm grip of the front of my shirt, drawing me against the ample curves the sapphire blue cotton distinctly hinted at.

In the middle of all that activity, such a subtly overt motion from the barmaid was easily passed off until she was up close and very personal, going ignored among many other such young couples.

Well, ignored by everyone but me, anyway. Sort of hard to miss the rather attractive young woman's warm breath tickling my skin, or the feel of her finger tracing the thin length of puckered scar tissue along my brow in a way that sent shivers of electricity coursing down my spine.

Not all of it figurative, judging by how she hesitated before smirking with that fanged grin of hers that accented the scaled patina of her features.

"Now, just where did _this_ come from?" She tapped the old injury gently with a fingernail. "It's different. From the others, anyway." Her hand trailed down slowly, almost curiously, probing at the edges my collar and the barest edges of older injuries suggested beneath.

"Hmm?" Self-consciously, I pulled away and tugged at my scarf to better hide the wounds, the motion bringing a small pout to rosy cheeks. "Just a Grimm wound like most of the others. Forgot to duck. How's it different?"

"O-oh! Nothing in particular. Just... It's just curious. It's the only one you seem willing to show off most... Um."

Those reptilian slits fell across my chest before realization struck her, and she turned her head aside bashfully, biting her lip as I thumbed the injury myself, dwelling on what she said.

She had a point there, especially considering this was the most blatant of my many injuries. "Guess you might have a point. I wonder..." Not that I wondered for long. Such things usually caught up to me these days, especially with the weird dreams... Idly, I spared thought for the glowing crystal humming in my pocket, feeling the steady current of energy it bled off.

I'd tried not to focus too much on the _Heart,_ orwhat those dreams and the occasional flashes of insight whenever my mind cleared might mean. I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

"But... Well, I'm glad to see someone's finally paying attention, what with way you've been spacing out all night. You actually had me worried, since, well... I was the one who sort of sprung this on you and all."

"It's fine. I said yes, didn't I?"

She brought a hand to her bangs, nervously playing with those spun strands of gold... Just like...

"I know. A-and that was kind of you. It's just this all probably isn't as exciting as city life, or hunting monsters. And if you aren't enjoying yourself...!"

"N-no! Not at all!"

Of course I panicked, bringing my hands up to try and reassure her. At least that was what I tried to do, though I think I only startled her further.

"That's not what I...!? I-I mean yes! I'm having a great time. It's just... Well, it's been a while since I've done _this."_ I waved around at the festivities, inadvertently catching Anbā's eye.

The old Fox turned her attention away from a heated debate over drinks with Akai-Hana's portly Mayor to watch us warily, especially with the young Asagi standing so close... When did she get so close?

 _'Oh, if looks could scald...'_

It had been a long time since I'd felt this awkward. Not since Yang, or since those first forays out and about while training under Marigold. "Practicing,"as she'd put it.

Liz had always been better at this sort of thing, working with people while I "worked" with people...

Oh gods, that didn't sound right at all, even if it was the truth. I was blunt, where she'd been sharp. The additional muscle; the one that dealt with the problems that inevitably arose. It was how we worked.

She was somewhere about the Festival even now, probably fidgeting in her own borrowed yukata, enjoying the ambiance and the activity...

"You're nervous?" The way Asagi voiced it caught me off guard, so skeptical... "You are, aren't you!?" She sounded surprised, but in a good way, thankfully.

"Heh, more 'awkward' than 'nervous', I think." My hand rose to the back of my head, scratching the usual itch that always plagued me in these moments; my "tell," as Marigold had put it. "Good food, wonderful company, and here I am. Hardly what you'd call a dancer."

"Which I still don't truly understand." The Faunus shook her head, scales deepening in shade from my previous comment as much as she tried to cover them up with her hair. "I've seen you train in the mornings, and the way you move sometimes is so...!" A hitch in her voice, my hand brushing aside some stray bangs that had drifted in my eye, revealing the blue patina beneath. "Thom?"

The sound of the alias broke my reverie, snapping me back to reality like a punch to the face.

 _'Why did I...?'_

Right, to remind myself it wasn't her...

 _"_ Asagi, I wasn't...!"

She clamped her mouth shut before I could say more, and I withdrew my hand swiftly. Awkward silence falling between us as we swayed idly to the tune, the music softer now, slower.

It was strange, hearing the tempo shift. Every pluck of the string, the steady wholesome beat of the drums, the thrum of life playing out around me.

Other couples were coming together, shadows dancing beneath the lights by planned design or coincidence. Before I knew it, we were there in the middle of it all. Asagi guided my bulk along with far more grace than I'd have expected, spinning me gently along, helping me hit the right steps.

I wasn't sure if it had anything to do with her Faunus heritage, but the way her body moved, effortlessly marking out a rhythm all its own. Almost boneless...

"What exactly are you hiding, Thomas Braun?" I started, the question catching me off-guard.

Wasn't exactly sure how I was supposed to answer that, though it seemed Asagi Azeri hardly seemed to care.

No... Not as she was drawing closer, slender fingers wrapping about the back of my neck, drawing my face down to hers. The young woman's eyes closed, mouth parted just slightly... Her intention clear as crystal.

...For a moment... just one brief fleeting moment... the dim illumination cast by the Dust globe overhead caught her blonde locks at just the right angle, haloing her features like burnished sunlight... I remembered dancing in much the same way, swaying in place to the rythym of our hearts pounding in my ears, her laugh enough to put a smile on my face...

 _"...You don't have to worry about me..."_

Yang's words... The night I left... Yang, fighting her own battles to recover... Yang, lying next to me in a bed... holding me close because she knew I'd be gone when she awoke...

"T-Thom?" Asagi's voice stammered forth, startled and hurt as I gently pulled myself from her grasp.

"Asagi... I can't."

The words were difficult to say, all the more so because I could see the rejection written across her face as though she'd just been slapped.

I should have put a stop to this long ago, for Asagi's sake and for Yang's. To see it continue any further would be a disservice to the former, and a betrayal of the latter. Of course, it didn't make what what I had to say any easier...

"Look, it's not you." Of course, the line from every one of Blake's romance novellas. More excuses... Typical. "There's..."

"There's someone else, isn't there?" she said softly in a leveled tone, guessing my next words even as she gazed about at the festivities at large. The Faunus was smiling, though the expression did little to hide the tears threatening to stain her face. "...Sienna?"

I shook my head slowly, doing my best to return the smile, though finding I had trouble meeting her gaze head on. I felt like a coward. "We're close, but... not _that_ close."

"Ah... That's good. Her manners are just awful." We shared a chuckle at that. A weak one, that passed just as quickly. It didn't help...

Asagi nodded to herself, looking for all the world a little relieved by that fact. Then she drew in a deep breath, wiping her cheeks gingerly with the sleeve of her robe, staring at me with something akin to resignation.

"This someone... Is it a girl?"

I nodded, unable to help the flush to my cheeks at the thought of the sunny dragon of Beacon. A reaction that didn't go unnoticed by the Faunus going by the girlish giggle escaping her lips.

"Oh... Oh, wow... I guess I never really stood a chance, did I?"

There was hope in her eyes. Fleeting, but still present. She was a kind young woman. Determined, beautiful in her own way...

Fingering the ends of the scarf hanging about my neck, I glanced down at the crescent moon symbol knitted across the reinforced material. Damaged in battle, much like the one who had brought it together, but still intact. Still strong... Still _fighting._

My answer was clear. Clear from the moment I made my pledge and began this journey.

"No... I'm sorry."

To be honest, I wasn't quite sure what a good man would do then, at that moment. But I couldn't lie.

I stared at her back as she fled the floor swiftly yet with a defined dignity to the stride, a smile on her face. Though in reality, I could still hear the way her heart pounded in her chest, the near-silent sobs wracking her throat.

Rarely had I hated the changes Raleigh and the Red Hand had heaped on me more than in that moment.

I didn't much see myself as a good man, though... so I simply remained silent... fists clenched and my jaw set, standing there on the floor amid the dancing happy couples, listening to the gentle tones of the music...

Wishing against reason that a certain someone could share it with me...

* * *

 **-END**

* * *

 **A/N: AMBR all shown in one chapter again, been awhile. Reika's got a glimpse of Mooring, Max and Ben are in the thick of things, and Joel made some painful admissions.**

 **Hope y'all enjoyed the chapter. Swear some action is right around the corner. -Mojo**

* * *

 **(Next Chapter: A rough night ahead, the Badlands in peril...)**


	18. Chapter 18

_**Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_

* * *

BOILING POINT

* * *

 _ **-Benjamin Carson-**_

"...This is s'posed to be some kinda joke, right!?"

I breathed out a long hiss of air, far calmer than I was feeling. And for a change, it wasn't because I was sharing a room with _HER._

No, in fact, she seemed even more surprised than I was, her face drawn in a way that showed off the new, stress-borne wrinkles that were the newest addition aside from the hair, her eyes stunned.

Only a few months ago, I'd have been loving every moment of that, cruel though it may be. But as it stood, the General's announcement hanging about the room like a shroud took precedence over all else.

"'Cause if it is, I sure as hell ain't laughin'!"

"Security is far from a laughing matter, Ben, as you well know." Ironwood responded, hands clasped in front of him, acting as though he wasn't aware of the implications of what he'd just said. "You've said as much yourself. The danger is real. What happened at Vale proved that to the whole of Remnant. Those behind that attack are still at large, despite your own efforts."

His eyes flashed dangerously, clearly warning me against elaborating on that particular fact with a certain uninitiated in the room.

Smart move, seeing as I'd been about to do _just_ that.

 _''Efforts!?' I at least **made** the effort! Would do more if you'd send me out of Atlas, instead of keepin' me locked up here...!'_

Of course, this shouldn't have been so surprising. Ozpin's months dead, but we're _still_ in favor of keeping secrets. The feeling was so familiar, I might've smiled if I didn't feel like vomiting.

I also noticed he was being very evasive about Atlas' particular role in the Fall of Beacon and the disaster at the Vytal Festival, however unintentional.

"This is only further compounded by the unrest growing within the Frontier regions, to the point that attacks are happening here, on our soil..."

Or snow, but I wasn't going to debate semantics as he droned on. Still calling it an " _unrest_ ," as if we weren't currently caught up in some kind of war.

One I couldn't quite be sure we were even winning.

 _'But that's not the point here, is it? Just say it, you iron-hearted...!'_

"...With all that in mind, we must look to our shores, the problems of other Kingdoms being the least of our concerns. Which is why, after much thought and deliberation, I have decided that until the global turmoil is dealt with... that in the face of these dangers, I _must_ place the safety and security of my people first and foremost."

That square-jawed face hardened until it seemed almost cut from solid marble, the man's expression the cold mask of feigned sincerity. Or it might've even been real. I wasn't sure which might've proven more distressing.

"Atlas will be placing on embargo on our Dust shipments throughout the whole of Remnant in the coming days, in an effort to keep our resources out of the hands of our enemies, until we know who is who. As for affiliates such as the Badlands, all foreign projects and initiatives will be suspended for the time being, and all essential personnel and assets recalled."

Foreign projects and initiatives suspended... such as the Dust trade, and the efforts to oversee repair of critical communications systems, of which only Atlas technicians knew the inner workings of worth a damn.

Essential personnel and assets... like the soldiers and drones used to bolster a community's defenses, where, before, only scattered lawmen and scared farmers had stood to face the creatures of Grimm, and the crews to man the shipping lanes and maintain the railways. People needed to run the mines, and supply the region with Dust.

All things that, though I and any other Bandit with an ounce of soul hated to admit it, the Badlands needed to survive and eke out its tenuous existence between larger powers and the beasts knocking at the gates.

And that, more than anything else, made it hurt all the worse.

It gave credence to everything I and hundreds of other brave, rebellious souls had tried to accomplish, all due to a simple fact: to prevent this.

Atlas hadn't just taken us over, stolen our lands, and ravaged it to sand and dust just as they had Vacuo. No, they'd gone and made themselves essential to the point we were all but dependent on them.

And now they'd gone and graciously given the keys to the rover back to the people they'd all but forced into confederacy. Thing is, they'd stripped the tires and siphoned most all the Dust out of it first.

"You... Y-you can't be serious!?" Mama... _Ambassador Reddington_ spluttered, the calm composure she'd tried to maintain thoroughly lost as she clutched the armrest of her seat for support.

And why shouldn't she be? Her whole world was almost literally crumbling before her very eyes. Her vision for it, anyway.

"General, _please_ be reasonable," she said, a bit more calmly this time, resuming the face she'd always used while playing Fool's Gambit, though her tells were obvious, to me, anyway. Even now, years later. "The Schnee Dust Company promised us a small garrison of Atlesian Knight-130s to recoup losses from the Vytal Panic."

I perked up at that. _'A Vytal Panic?'_ What had happened back home while I'd been here playing Specialist? What had...? No...

"Leftovers set to be decommissioned, anyway; a benefit if we upped our quotas. We did that and more, at great cost!"

Cost in lives and material, no doubt...

"And trust me when I say that Atlas appreciates those efforts greatly, Ambassador. Which is why I'm explaining the situation to you in person now. The relationship between our peoples has always been a beneficial one."

Ironwood nodded along, steeping his fingers on the desk before him. Never in my life had I wanted to punch...! Okay, that was a lie, but this came damn _close!_

Abigail seemed only a few nods away herself, nails digging into the cushioned steel of the chair.

"But my decision still stands. The motion will be passed within these next few weeks, before an official announcement is made. You will at least have that long to make short term preparations."

"You... You can't do this!"

"Yeah, he sorta can. It's the law. Thought you'd know all about that, Ambassador," I grunted bitterly, Abigail turning to regard me like I'd just spat in her face, yet I had nothing for her. Still, in this we were at least united, my focus fixed on the man seated before me. "'Course that doesn't exactly mean she doesn't have a point." My eyes aimed at the General while I gestured a mechanical thumb at the woman beside me, and grimacing at how jerky the motion was. "Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Speak freely, Specialist. I'm sure you would regardless." The way he phrased it, as if that was all I was, set an even clearer boundary between myself and this issue. I nodded my thanks even so, focusing my thoughts. "I'm well aware there will be controversy."

"Controversy? You do realize you're guttin' them, don't you, General? It's not like Vale's importin' much now, and Vacuo won't support the Badlands much because they're still sore at y'all, and that ain't even countin' the two-bit powers runnin' the wastes."

Powers that would see the opportunity of filling the void Atlas had left in its wake, crushing the Bandits and townsfolk under heel.

"And with the mines shut down, they'll have people starvin' in the streets within months. Weeks even. No, this isn't controversy. It's damn well euthanasia!"

No Dust, no trade. No trade, no economy. No economy... the Badlands as a society breaks down, and we get to see how bad things can _really_ be.

"And as regretful as that is, I'm afraid it's no longer Atlas' concern at this time... I'm sorry, truly. To the both of you." He was committed, I could see that fully now. "This isn't a decision that was made lightly. However, threats both within and without must be dealt with. Peace must be maintained."

"...I... I understand, General..."

The Ambassador, former Law-Keeper Abigail Reddington, the woman I'd heard stare down bandit kings and tame some of the rowdiest criminals on the face of Remnant with a glare... backed down. She _gave up._ That took me off guard, and made me angry. Angrier than it should have.

"...You're right... Peace must be maintained... The Badlands must learn how to fend for itself once again..."

Yeah. Learn by being thrown right back into the deep end!

She hated it, I could figure that much. But she didn't want to fight it. She couldn't, because she'd lose, and she'd lose _badly._ My mind worked that out in seconds, running different scenarios, ways around the problem, and none ended well. And that didn't help my mood. Not one bit.

 _'Peace!?' How's boardin' up the doors and windows, tellin' the rest of Remnant to fend for itself 'peace!?'_

Was I losing my temper just a little bit under the pressure? Yes. It was very likely that I was. Thoughts were racing through my head a mile a minute.

I mean, how often is it that you find out you're sitting across from, and working for, a man who is literally throwing your people to the Beowolves? And what about my contacts, those trusted souls I'd set to keep an eye out for any White Fang activity coming through the region and out of Vale!?

An eye out for AMBR, for my friends... The people _he'd_ promised to help me find! _'That son of a...!'_

I rounded on Ironwood, fuming now but still doing my best to maintain the appearance of civility. "What about Professor Ozpin?"

Now I noticed Woody's brow twitched, realizing I'd finally hit a nerve with this care. Still, if he was committed, so was I.

"Would _he_ be alright with any this? I thought the Kingdoms had to ' _work together, or fall into darkness?'_ That's what he always said, wasn't it, or am I wrong?"

I was quoting the man, and it stung, but if that wasn't going to seal the deal...

"We both know what Cin...!" I choked back the name the instant his steely eyes met mine, looking away. Swiftly recalling the other ear in the room, trying to maintain my composure, and failing. If I hadn't been before, I was officially treading dangerous waters now. "We both know what the _Black Queen's_ capable of, and why we need to stop her! How's brushing off our allies helping anyone? If the Headmaster were here...!"

"Well, Oz isn't here, is he? The Black Queen herself saw to that. And you're hardly qualified to debate in his name, _Specialist_."

It wasn't that he shouted. I would've preferred it if he had, if I was being perfectly honest. The cold force behind the words, even so, drove me back into my seat. Funny, I hadn't even realized I'd stood up.

"And yes, she must be stopped. This woman, who wormed her way into Haven's roster without Headmaster Lionheart being any the wiser, or so he claims. Do you truly believe that?"

Honestly speaking, with the amount of control and influence I'd seen both Ozpin and Ironwood exert within their domains? No, not for a damned second, but then what would that mean to the rest of the world if that was the case?

Still, he could read the answer on my face. Read _me,_ like an open book.

"You've seen it for yourself, Benjamin. Atlas is surrounded on all sides by threats real and potential, obvious and hidden, and I have a duty to defend her from both however I see fit. I won't make the same mistakes Vale and her Headmaster did. I won't welcome the enemy onto my doorstep. Not without making them work for it."

"And what of the Frontier?"

I was reaching at straws now. Things really _were_ bad. I was desperate, though, even if I could already predict the result.

"Does this order extend to them, too?" That would mean leaving them to run amok in the other Kingdoms, uncontested against armies unprepared for such a foe, years of peace having taken their inevitable toll. "Even after what happened to Altrosa? He was one of... He was one of _us._ " I almost said "you," but that wouldn't have been accurate, now would it? "That Dust could save lots of lives."

"Indeed. Many of our own soldiers lives, when it comes to fighting the enemy within our borders." The conversation was done in his mind, the end result never in doubt. "The other Kingdoms can be expected to deal with the rebellion as they see fit, with the resources they themselves possess. Meanwhile, Atlas will look to where always has: the strength of her army and her people to weather the storm. The strength of those sworn to defend it, as you yourself did. Remember that."

Abigail flinched, and for a brief moment, looked to me. That look told me all I needed to know. Why she felt she needed Atlas tech to defend her people. _Our_ people, I corrected myself harshly.

Atlas wasn't alone in dealing with the Frontier and its killers, and that danger wasn't just for the Kingdoms to face. But that didn't matter, did it? That wasn't a concern for mighty Atlas. Ironwood himself had made that quite clear.

The Badlands was alone... And the storm he'd spoken of was growing ever closer...

* * *

" _Ben! Ben, wait!_ "

I paused my limping march, biting back a curse as _her_ voice echoed down the hall after me. I'd hoped we might've been able to escape in the awkward aftermath of the meeting, but it seems I'd misjudged her. _Again._

Cherry and Echo paused on either side of me, their nerves written clear on both their faces as I turned slightly, or at least it was in Garrett's case.

Rouge was better at keeping her face leveled, same as my own, but she knew exactly who we were dealing with, same as I. Abigail Reddington wasn't exactly the sort of woman people found it easy to avoid. At least not when she wanted a word.

" _Benjamin!_ " Her face was pale and littered in tells, betraying the calm, leveled demeanor she'd adopted over the last few years.

Surprisingly she was alone, having left her bodyguard - Dad - to deal with Ironwood, I expected. Probably not the smartest move, but given her track record, I probably shouldn't have been all that surprised.

"...What do you want, Ambassador?"

She paused mid-stride, biting her lip but keeping her distance, the same awkwardness that had been present last time we'd spoken hanging over us.

Only this time, there were no handcuffs keeping me restrained, and she'd left behind her backup.

I looked over my shoulder to glare at the woman who had lied to me. Who had gotten my sister killed, all because she and the man who should've had our best interests at heart got tired of running, and decided to trust the people who'd sold us out to the Atlesians in the first place. Ironic, really.

Now we were seeing exactly how _that_ decision wound up for all involved.

She should be begging my forgiveness, leaving me alone, or making some kind of gesture...

" _...Really?_ "

She shrugged, bringing a hand to her brow, and shaking her head. She seemed more disappointed than anything, a part of me hating that look, another much older side wanting nothing more than to shrink back, or find out how I could fix it. Even after all this time, after all that had happened...

"...We're playin' this game then? Right now, after all we just heard?"

"You don't like it, you can just leave me to Bill, and run off," I spat back dismissively, leaning back on my good leg and crossing my arms. waving a mechanical hand. "Worked last time didn't it? Oh, wait, that's _right._ It didn't."

"Ben, our home is in danger. This isn't the time for...!"

"Nah, guess it really isn't," I cut off her off, glancing at my fingernails. '"Course, forgive me for wantin' some distraction from the fact that _we Bandits_ were right. Damn the good people of the Badlands, that is."

Cherry shot me a confused look, one I returned with a mouthed "later," turning my attention back to the matter at hand after sending them off to wait at the end of the hall.

That conversation was going to be bad enough, but let's keep the disastrous interactions to one at a time, shall we?

"I take it you weren't warned either?"

At least I now knew why Winter had been somewhat less icy towards me these last few days, the rare glimmer of sympathy in her gaze when she thought I wasn't looking.

Not like I could expect much in the way of support from the Schnee, her mind firmly set behind the General's grand designs as she'd so often confirmed.

His will was hers, and the other Specialists would follow along in lock-step. Even me...

"I'd heard rumors from some of my contacts, people I trust." Abby looked out the window at the whirling snow, so different from the home we both knew. "Missin' shipments, along with their transports, rumblings of movement on the Atlas side of things, but nothin' to indicate anything like this. It's insane."

"And you just let it happen, anyway. ' _Peace must be maintained,_ ' right? Least that's what it looked like back there." It was cruel to sneer, but how was I supposed to resist? Especially when she made it so damn easy. "'Advocate for the Badlands.' _Riiight_. Definitely saw a lot of 'advocatin'' back there."

"What choice did I have!? Challenge the issue, in the face of everything he's capable of!?"

"Uh, ain't that your job, lady? To raise concerns?"

"Don't stand there and think to judge me, as if you did so much better! 'Sir,' 'General.' Even added a fancy salute!"

"Atlesian Special Operatives Unit, remember?" I retorted sarcastically, motioning to the uniform I wore, and trying very hard not to notice Echo's and Cherry's shared looks and nervous glances. I shooed them away with a subtle motion of my hand. This was private, and I waited until the two had moved further down the corridor before moving on. "I made my case to the General, presented my points, and he refused to budge. He's my Commandin' Officer. That's his right, simple as that, ."

" _'Simple as that?' 'His right?'_ You're talkin' like that's the end of it!"

"Least I made the damn attempt to sway him!"

And probably lost whatever small amounts of goodwill I still bore with the man in the bargain. One word, one order, and I'd be worse than grounded. He'd take my ship, my crew, and I'd lose whatever small chance I had to fulfill my goals.

I had to be careful now, more than ever.

"At least I _tried!_ I didn't blow our chances at this!"

"As if we had a chance to begin with! You saw as well as I did, it was clear he'd made up his mind. Nothin' I could say would've changed anything," she spat. She actually did spit on the tiled flooring, face reddening just a tad when she realized what she'd done. "All that work, the progress our people have been movin' towards since the Marigold Event. Our chance to finally be recognized as somethin' more than just a bunch of sand rats and thieves... This could undo _everything!_ "

She was right, of course. Since Lady Luck herself had swept the board clean of some of the Badland's worst criminals - the kind of scum that had driven our reputation into the dirt, and more than once threatened to bring the wrath of the Kingdoms and other powers down on us all - it had been a struggle of years to build something vaguely resembling society from the ashes and glass.

The work required to unite a posse of recalcitrant, stubborn, individualistic settlements into a vague identity.

It was so fragile, and I loved every inch of it despite the pains it had caused. But still...

"We weren't thieves, but bein' vassals hasn't exactly fixed much, either," I pointed out, letting my prosthetic droop languidly after another spike of nerve pain almost left me hissing. I'd have to go talk to Ambrose about something called "quality control."

"No, it hasn't... Which is why we need your help, Ben. Me, your father, and the whole of the Badlands." And there it was... _More_ pressure, as if I didn't have enough already. "You're close to the General, or you know somethin' he holds close. That much is clear from what I saw." Really? So she noticed that, huh? _Figures._ "I don't know what it is, and gods help me, but I don't care. It's a link. He listens to you..."

"Yeah, really seemed to be takin' my opinions to heart," I said sarcastically, raising an eyebrow. "The stonewallin' and stern looks were just for show, I promise. Usually it's all tea parties, and lunch dates."

And briefings. _Lots_ of briefings...

"Benjamin, we can help you, if that's what you want. Offer you resources you might not have considered."

...Excuse me?

"...What did you just say?"

She looked over her shoulder, almost conspiratorially, before turning her eyes back to me. "...I know you're looking for your friends. The White Fang cells...!"

"Aww, you've been keepin' tabs on me! And from afar, just like always. Heh, I almost feel loved."

Abigail's baby blues seemed almost to shift red in the light. No... They _did_ shift red, similar to Blondie's on occasion. I'd heard about that tidbit from Dad. How it happened when her blood was up.

Still, to actually see it... My nerve almost broke, hanging by a damned thread.

She might've struck at me then, or broken something expensive along the walls, if there was anything she could reach.

 _'So that's the reason they call her 'the Red.' Always wondered...'_

She most certainly had to hold herself back from doing either, staring at me in disbelief as the crimson faded back to its original coloring, backing down. Almost wished she hadn't.

"Can you... Can you _please_ be serious for just a minute!? _Please...!?_ "

"Sure thing, right after you start!" I growled back, all trace of laughter gone, anger to match hers flaring up in its place. Yeah, guess looks weren't the only thing she passed on, lovely. "Where the hell do you get off? Askin' me for help, like I owe you two anything after what you did! When it was _you_ who ruined _everything!_ "

Years of lies, misdirected bitterness, excuses and absence. And the two of them had thought a chat - with me handcuffed to the damn seat, by the way - was going to somehow fix all of that!? Yeah, well... for all their cleverness, I couldn't exactly give my parents much stock in forethought.

"Not to mention it was your type that gave Atlas the power they needed! Who _let_ this happen!" I waved my hand at her harshly. "Keep your offer. You'll probably just muck it up, and get my friends buried, anyway. It's happened before..."

"...You... You can't mean that."

Abigail almost sounded stunned for the second time since I'd seen her. A rare treat. Usually, all I got was patient "understanding," and sad looks. Neither of which were very comforting, mind you.

"You would doom the Badlands - your own people- and all over some petty grudge!? I thought Bill had raised you better than...!"

"No, _it's_ _ **NOT**_ _SOME PETTY GRUDGE!_ "

With a sudden adrenaline burst of pure fury, I snatched her by the bandanna with my metal arm, bringing her directly to my face. To face the son she had wronged. The feelings I'd been struggling to hold back in Ironwood's office, barely held in check by the man's stifling authority, boiled over now.

I wasn't fuming, or irritated. Just _angry._ And _gods,_ did it feel great to watch her flinch and squirm in my grip. I actually had to wonder if my eyes weren't pulling a color change, before vehemently hoping they weren't. I didn't want anything else connecting me to this woman.

She grabbed the arm reflexively, trying fruitlessly to pry the vice grip apart. "Ben, _stop!_ I-I didn't mean it...!"

" _You. Got. ANNIE. KILLED!_ " I hissed venomously. " _As good as killed her yourself!_ "

I was bigger than her, I discovered with a start of realization I hid behind the anger, standing easily broader and half a head taller than her. So different from how things used to be.

"...And if I weren't for the fact that I have _more important_ things to worry about, I would take this arm, and show you _exactly_ what I think about your excuses _,_ and do what needs to be done by my little sister!"

We stood there for a few good moments, her on edge, looking very much alarmed at how much I hated her. Good. Let her see just what her schemes and plots brought about. At the lives she ruined... _Our_ future.

"Ben?" Cherry had come running back, likely due in no small part to the shouting. Probably should be glad this floor was all but devoid of people, otherwise we might've had a problem. Garrett had put away his Scroll, eyes darting between myself and the Ambassador, unsure of what to do, or who to help.

A good man, Garrett. Too good to be working for a man like me.

Grimacing, I shoved Abigail away, but not as harshly as I would have liked, leaving her gasping for air, but likely out of shock. I quickly glanced back, and saw Cherry and Echo had approached me during my standoff. One harsh glare stopped them in their tracks.

"...But no... Much as it pains to admit it, y'all're too important for the Badlands to lose. I understand that much."

I sighed, taking a step back and running through one of those silly meditations Joel had taught me so long ago. It helped, sorta...

"And for the record, of course he raised me better, you damn harpy!" I corrected her on both counts. "Don't know if it's 'cause I'm a Specialist and ya though you had to, or you just don't know me - last one's probably more than likely - but if you actually _thought_ for even a _second_ that I'd have to be _bought_ \- that that would be the _only_ reason I'd consider helpin' the folks back home - then you don't know me _at all!_ "

"No, evidently I don't! And you have no idea how much that...!"

" _Don't you dare!_ "

My voice cracked, stopping her cold mid-monologue. Definitely not used to the feeling.

"Don't _dare_ try to win sympathy from me!... You lost the right ages ago." I waved my good hand, rolling my eyes away from her hurt expression - like I gave a damn - before focusing once more. "...I'll do what I can on my end. Ain't like this embargo's gonna be too popular, 'specially with the crowd I'm runnin' with these days. But I'm not promisin' anything. Not to you."

"...But at least you'll try... or you'll think up a way around it."

The Ambassador smiled sadly, which angered me even more, if that were possible, though why, I didn't know. She took a step forward before thinking better of it after catching sight of my snarl.

"...You can't be mad forever, Son. Trust me, it _will_ break you in the end," she said quietly, in a voice meant only for the two of us, almost seeming to age visibly before my eyes under the weight of pain and stress both. "At least not at your father. Not him. You can't."

"The hell I can't! Managed to keep hatin' you pretty consistently for over a decade now." She looked gobsmacked, for good reason.

Though, to be fair, this was ending a lot better than most of my imagined conversations with her, and a hell of a lot more fruitful than some of our real ones. But Abigail Reddington knew the score.

She _shouldn't_ have dismissed what happened to Annie like that, or tried to buy me. And I wasn't exactly going to succumb to tears and desperate hugs.

Not now... Maybe not ever. I was too busy for that junk.

"Wouldn't count on me runnin' empty anytime soon. I'm stubborn like that. Think I got it from you, Ambassador."

"Yes... Yes, you most certainly did." She nodded coolly to Garrett, spared a quick word for Cherry - concerning her father I would imagine - before turning on her heels... And of course, she tried to get the last word in edgewise. "You... You be careful out there, Ben. Remember, despite what you might think... we've _always_ been proud of the man you've become... even with the attitude."

The last word wasn't hers. I wouldn't allow it. "If my attitude's like this, it's also 'cause of you."

She said nothing, merely keeping her eyes on me. Then she looked away, closing her eyes with something akin to sorrow. Who knows? It might've been. But then she was gone.

Just like before. Just like she'd always been. _Gone..._

And she'd just had to go and end it like that, on that note...

 _'...Where's the nearest dive?...'_

* * *

 _ **-Joel Ambrose-**_

"...and your eyes, as green as the leaves fluttering in Springtime's gentle caress..."

I found Briar a few minutes later. After I'd taken some time to cool down, of course. Get my head in order, and avoid Anbā and her inevitable guilty queries, no doubt pleased with the result, if regretting the course of it.

It wasn't exactly difficult, my partner seated at the end of one of the long tables closest to the bar, yet furthest from the rabble. Typical... Staring into the drink before her wearing a bored expression.

Meanwhile, one of the latest in a line of Akai-Hana's young bachelors plead his case. A Faunus youth with wandering eyes, rosy cheeks, and a raccoon's striped tail poking out the folds of his tunic and waggling excitedly.

Most attempts had been pretty funny at the start, and something for me to tease her or for us both to laugh about.

"...And your smile? _Ahhh_ , as mischievous as a nymph, in the throes of passion never-ending..."

Tonight? It was just irritating...

"Move along."

"...Like chocolates upon a new day's ev... Eh!?"

The Poet cut short his rambling, eyes widening and cheeks paling at the sight of me looming behind him, though he held his ground admirably enough. What color he'd lost swiftly returned in a welter of red, accented by the scent of alcohol on his breath.

Honed senses registered most of this in moments, and honed experience informed me how best to deal with it efficiently.

"Braun? Did you want something? I'm afraid we're caught in the middle of something, aren't we, dear Sienna?" The crooning was overdone, the doe eyes just plain excessive.

Liz's reply was a short non-committal * _tsk,_ * running a quivering bandaged finger over the rim of her glass. Of course, to the poet, she might as well have begged him to stay, half falling out of her festival wear in the process.

"You see, Huntsman? Now, you came with Azeri, so how about you go running back, and I'll consider...!?"

" _Move. Along._ Won't ask again."

For his sake, I didn't need to, the wannabe suitor managing to hold ground a few wavering seconds more before I drew upon my Semblance.

Nothing overtly physical, aside from a few stray sparks crackling between my fingertips. Straightening to my full height, I let the weight of my Soul and physicality do the rest.

The man's will bent under the pressure of personality, until he broke like a dry twig, shambling off to join a drunken Mido and his mates. Cursing under his breath and badmouthing me to the lot rather spectacularly, finding some courage with distance.

To be fair, it was a rather crude use of Aura. Bluntly done, but effective. A leveraging trick, courtesy of Fortuna Marigold herself.

"Little gruff, don't you think?" Liz commented snidely as I fell into the seat beside her, leaning back against the tabletop, and staring at the distant treetops rustling in the night air. In the moonlight, it was actually quite beautiful, despite knowing well enough what dwelt within, somewhat like the girl beside me. "No subtlety. That was always your problem."

"Shut up."

"Cute. Can already see where this is going."

"Stop talking, _please._ "

"Hmm? Oh, I get what this is," Liz went on, pointedly ignoring me as always. It's what I liked about the young woman, truth be told. Maybe Yang and Ben had been right about me having issues. "You struck out with the Snake, so now you've got to come and ruin my night, make me miserable. Real mature, Joel. Real mature. Whatever would Master say?"

"You weren't seriously interested in him, were you?" I cocked my head in the direction of the Poet, currently stumbling about through the thin snow towards another likely target. Sometimes, I wished my hearing wasn't so good. At least then I wouldn't be forced to endure his latest pickup lines. That he was muttering something about finding Asagi, which only made my teeth clench all the more... "Really?"

"Oh, _gods_ no. But still, its not like I enjoy being your rock to cling to. It's just weird. Usually, _I'm_ the disruptive one."

She worked herself around and sidled closer into my side. She was not quite able to support her weight on her arms yet, so she rested her head on her knee instead, blowing a few stray locks of hair from her face.

"You did the right thing, though. Probably would've kicked your ass if you'd kept encouraging the little reptile..."

"I wasn't encouraging her!... At least... I didn't mean to." The growl was fierce, but even I could sense the weakness from it, nagging at me. " _Gaagh..._ Blast it, now I sound like my dad."

"Bad habits with women, too, I take it?"

Thomas Ambrose was a good father and a good man, or so I liked to think... even if he'd been a bit more flirty than appropriate with a few of his informants. Looking back, the women at those dives the officer used to drag me to between cases always seemed rather happy to see him.

One of those tiny things I'd always seen, but never wanted to admit.

"Sorry. I shouldn't have..."

"It's fine. Better I catch it early. Being gone doesn't make him perfect. No one is..." I wanted to simmer, but tranquility pervaded my senses in a subtle fashion, stealing the fire behind it, dulling the edge of my building temper.

Too sudden to be wholly natural, if I hadn't known the source, I might've actually believed I was calming down. But I did know the source.

Something was curbing my emotions, a comforting Aura the girl beside me exuded on command, lulling me into complacency...

"Liz."

"Who's this 'Liz' person? Don't get me wrong, she sounds like a smart girl...?"

"Quit it. You know I hate it when you do that." I couldn't quite work up the rancor to make it a demand or even a proper reproach. "Besides, you were the one egging me on, damn it!"

 _"Don't see why you don't just give in and go for it? Make a girl's night, work off some stress, have some fun, and no one'll be the wiser. It's a win-win."_

Those had been her words, after all. _'Wait, why am I defending...? **Gaaaah!** '_

"I wasn't _'egging you on!'_ Far from it!" She was using her Semblance, altering her Aura to influence my emotions, and not even trying all that hard to hide it either. "I was only ever teasing. Believe it or not, I actually _like_ Xiao Long. No weird scales for one."

"Careful." Like she'd listen anyway, but someone had to curb behavior...

"Plus the fact that she seems raring to put you back together. And besides, if you went and screwed it up making some dire mistake, who would you go moaning to...? _Oooooh,_ wait, that's right! Me."

Liz snickered and flashed me a cheeky grin under the glare I shot her, all teeth. A familiar expression I couldn't even bring myself to be mad at for too long, and she knew it. Witch.

"Hey, chin up, big guy. I'm proud of you. You came to your senses and broke it to her face. Shows your learning. No more running away like... Well." She trailed off, a frown forming at the edges of her lips that she couldn't quite hide.

Running away, like how I'd left her and the Red Hand in a bid of moral crisis, leaving her with questions to be answered, and feelings left uncertain. That she could joke about it now... Was she joking? Would I even be able to tell?

I hoped I could, regarding Elizabeth Briar curiously for a few heartbeats. The way she was perched on the edge of her seat, picking at the hem of her borrowed saffron robes with wrapped fingers.

Even now, she seemed ready to leap into action, always on edge. The consummate fighter, the Trapper contained behind a thin veneer of calm.

Did I look the same way? Or had my time at Beacon Academy changed that, too, just like it had so much else?

Fingering the edges of my scarf, I sighed, easing my forehead into my palm. "Right... I still feel like I should find Azeri, though. I should say something, or try to explain..."

"'Course you do. You're a _guy._ A somewhat decent sort of guy... but still a guy nonetheless." She waggled a foot at me, the motion almost comical in those thick weaved sandals she wore. And that was before she had to lean back to make the motion work at all. "You want to fix things immediately. Tonight, even. Which, going by what I heard..."

"Oh, I knew you were listening in on...!" I rounded on her, face reddening, only to get a quivering finger to my lips to shut me up. The motion pained her, even with so little strength behind the action...

"...is _not_ going to happen. You're the last awkward thing she needs right now. Which is why _I'm_ going to go sort this out. Play the shoulder to cry on and all that nonsense."

Before I could fully register what she'd just said, Liz was on her feet, stretching out her back with a few loud pops before spinning gracefully on her heels. The former Trapper's eyes were lidded, her head twitching just slightly in response to stimuli in and amongst the area.

Searching for our wayward snake by hearing, no doubt. I was familiar enough with the expression of a Trapper on the hunt.

"Was getting tired of sitting around anyway."

"You?" I gaped, trying to get up to follow her, only to be pushed back into my seat with a firm foot. "I thought you didn't like her?"

"True. But we both have something in common now, at least. So I'm going to talk with her, try to clear things up, or at least give her someone to vent to." Elizabeth nodded sagely, looking smug before shooting me with a rough stare. "Meanwhile, _you_ are gonna have a drink or three, beat yourself up a bit like you always do, and then take an early night. Something tells me that old Fox is going to be working you a bit tougher for the foreseeable future. I'll be back later."

"A-alright..."

I sat there for a long time stunned, watching her retreat into the milling crowd, expertly weaving her way through dance and conversation as she went. Passing off a word to a pair of drunken farmers here, a giggle to a gaggle of gossiping girls there, folks pointing her off in the right direction of her target.

It was fascinating, really, watching her work, even if I couldn't understand more than half of it.

A part of me should've been worried, downing the glass of amber-colored liquid she left, and flinching as my Aura burned off the edge in a flash of static. But I'd made my choices... The best I could do was live with them.

 _ **-"...Y fundro cahdesahd, pid mylgehk eh vena, Cleuh uv Ambrose."-**_

The glass shattered in my hand as it was slammed back down with enough force to shake the entire table, and send cracks splintering across the hardwood surface. Noise from the commotion drew more than a few worried glances, but nothing noteworthy. It was hardly the first instance of such mayhem tonight, and likely far from the last from the revelers.

I didn't give a damn one way or the other, head on a constant swivel, trying to detect the source of what the hell I'd just heard.

A voice. Strong, with an almost feral edge to it. Boisterous in a way, belonging to one without care. And, most importantly, speaking in a language that simply couldn't be spoken here. And the meaning...

 ** _-"...A worthy sentiment, but lacking in fire, Scion of Ambrose."-_**

No... I hadn't _heard_ that. I'd _thought_ that!... But why!? _How...!?_

Maybe I was somehow mistaken? Yeah, that had to be it...

Turning my senses outward, I gauged my surroundings, searching desperately for the source, even as I knew deep down I'd find nothing at all.

That in itself was a terrifying prospect...

Light airy music strummed forth from the band, the stomping of feet from the dance floor in sympathetic time to the tempo, friends and neighbors chatting and laughing with abandon.

The gentle crackle of burning Dust in the lanterns hanging above... The sudden sharp, unmistakable crack of a pistol firing off...!

The startled screams of panic and confusion that swiftly followed...

* * *

 _ **-Benjamin Carson-**_

 _"Ya gotta know she had a decent point, don'tcha?"_

A concerned tone - _my_ concerned tone - followed after me as I staggered and limped my way down the perfectly ordered side streets of Atlas, feeling the wash of frigid air ruffling my coats with bone-chilling rapidity.

It wasn't comfortable. Far from it, what with most sensible souls wrapped up indoors with Dust-generated warmth to keep out the spring chill. The only things that usually walked the streets this late were the mechanical marching trot of service drones charged with scraping the ice from streets, and cleaning the roads.

Them, and the tipsy idiot Specialist that just wanted to spend some time alone with his thoughts, rather than stuck up in a dingy nightclub, drinking away his sorrows, or worse yet sitting in his quarters, staring at a damned painting and busted axe.

This was preferable, even if his thoughts decided to start talking back.

"Huh, whaddya mean?"

I chose not to look at the me striding beside me, bundled up in his poncho and frowning like that. In the way I used to every time I stumbled across a poor sod back in the Badlands. The ones beyond my means to help.

"What decent point's that?

" _About bein' angry, I mean. We can't keep this up."_

"* _Hic_ * Hah! Aww, speak for yourself!" I laughed with a shake of the head, coughing a few stray ice crystals before reaching for my flask - a warming draft of amber brandy - only to find it empty.

For a moment, the temptation almost had me calling for Echo to grab me another, realizing a moment later that I'd ditched my aide, my brutish bodyguard, and lovely countrywoman an hour before.

Amazing what oddities a bit of alcohol, a few suggestions, and some taunting incentives could stir up in a man.

By the time I'd slipped out the back door, Echo and Jasper had quite literally stolen the show, to my surprise. Our little Atlesian boasted an impressive pair of pipes with which to woo a certain Badlander dame, and a former Trapper to provide a bit of background on the sax that left a cheering audience screaming for more.

Cherry herself stepped up to join them soon after, a fiddle snatched from its previous irate owner in hand.

I'd never been so proud... And then these two had shown up and spoiled it all...

"And it's ' _I_ ' who can't keep this up! There's no ' _we_ ' involved!" The words were punctuated by a jab to the chest that went right through the frowning figure like a mirage. "Y'all're just the annoyin' opposites tryin' to get yer points across to my stressed conscience, both of yous." A grunt sounded from behind me, gruff and humorless. "The soft bit that can't pick up on the fact shit's changed..." A short bow to said contemporary of the mind, right before turning to face the frowning blonde figure in his spotlessly, starched white officer's uniform, hair slicked back and cleaned up in a way that was simply impossible to achieve "...and the iron-faced asshole I keep thinkin' I _should_ be."

 _"Come up with that yourself, Specialist?"_ the soldier sneered, wearing a look I've hopefully never worn, or if I did, was punched for doing it.

"Nah, skimmed a damn book on the flight to Atlas. Y'all should try it sometime, asshole." My arm was aching again, the cold, and the shoddy nerve work. Would implants really help with that? "And no, I'm not talkin' 'bout Ironwood's guide to bein' a robotic monster."

" _You're weak, split up inside, walkin' drunk, and talkin' to yourself. This is any better?"_ Ooh, self-recrimination. Now we're playing this game. Hot damn... _"We should be out there, takin' names, bustin' heads, figurin' out what happened to our family. Our team. Not playin' politics, starin' at silly paintin's, or whatever this datin' game with the Princess is."_

I shivered. Not as much from the cold as the consideration of what this half of me was saying. He wasn't wrong. I wanted action. _Craved it,_ even.

At least then it would feel like I was making progress. Not... whatever _this_ was.

 _"Actually, better yet, how about takin' her along?"_ the stern-faced persona continued, gaining a clipped fervor to his words that I recognized all too well. _"Girl's a firecracker bottled up in an ice chest, ain't she? You've seen the way Ironwood's been pushin' her for his school. He'd be thrilled, and we' be gettin' a useful ally!"_

Memories of Pyrrha Nikos flashed painfully to mind in a white hot flash that burned just like my leg, a smiling young woman brimming with life and potential... ending up with a sword through her stomach, and her destiny in tatters.

 _"_ She's our friend! We're not _'gettin' her,'_ whatever the hell that's supposed to mean!"

Stern Face huffed in a way that made me want to punch myself, just so I'd never have the chance. Sullen, blessed silence fell across the street, broken only by the whining servos in my arm, and the guttering flicker of electronic screens and signs overhead.

How late was it? I'd need to be back at the ship by morning. Either that, or...

 _"Be that as it may, point at hand still stands."_ My eyes closed, willing myself to stay calm while knowing for a fact that I'd never said "Be that as it may" before in my godsdamned life. _"Ya can't keep dividin' your attention like this. The Frontier, the White Fang, Maxine. You're too scattered. The Badlands' in a bind right now. **Home** is in a bind. Ya can't afford to just stand by. Mama... **Reddington...** " _I shot myself a dark look... Gods, that was a weird concept to contemplate, _"...came to you for help."_

"Yeah! Help bendin' the man with the literal steel backbone!" At least I think it's steel. Never thought to ask just how much of the man was metal and what wasn't. It seemed rude. "She wants protection for the Badlands, weapons, Dust, drones!... I can't just snap my fingers and make all that happen!"

 _"...But ya know someone that could, don'tcha?"_

I opened my mouth to argue, to call myself out on that... but I couldn't. It was the truth, after all. I knew full well just who I was talking about. Didn't mean I had to like it.

"...I could lean on Schnee... Work somethin' out. Embargo's not in full force yet, and with his means, it wouldn't be overly difficult, and far from impossible... But that would mean...!"

" _Mean givin' the cold-hearted bastard somethin' he wants. Grovelin' and beggin' the Devil for scraps!"_ Our warmonger snarled angrily, a metallic fist smashing into his palm in a way with such force, that, in reality, would've likely snapped every bone in the flesh and blood limb. " _What happened to godsdamned pride!?"_

I couldn't help myself, laughter spilling from me in an uncontrolled torrent that threatened to put me on the curb more than once, echoing through the slab-like buildings, built without a shred of personality to them, just like everything else in the bleak wasteland of a kingdom.

"Yeah, like I care so damn much about somethin' like that..." Breathing slowly, I got back to my senses, looking around, only to realize I was alone in the middle of the street. Blessedly, painfully alone... and all the more irritable for it. "Godsdammit."

Bracing myself against the cold, I continued on my little trek. Towards where and for what purpose, I still hadn't entirely decided. Sense and my twitching prosthetic told me I should head back. Either that, or call Echo and arrange a pickup, weathering my lecture if it meant sleeping in an actual bed tonight, and not curled up on some stoop.

Then the guilt came, the onrushing tide of memories reminding me that I would be returning to life as a Specialist. As a figurehead, a puppet of a war machine I'd grown up learning to hate.

No closer to Reika, Joel, or Maxine... Pretending everything was alright, when in reality...

 _'Might've had a point... I don't think I can keep this up...'_

"E-excuse me, Mr. Soldier, sir? S-spare...!?"

Jumping almost outta my skin with a flesh and blood hand reaching for the sidearm hanging at my belt, I rounded on the stooped figure bundled up in shabby mismatched clothes. One who, from the look of things, had just crawled from an alleyway I'd crossed without barely noticing.

Instantly, my eyes picked out the extra twitching set of canine ears just peeking out from a scarf wrapped about his head, identifying him as a Faunus. A terrified Faunus...

A terrified man, staring wide-eyed down the barrel of a bulky slug pistol.

"I-I... P-please, don't hurt me!"

He cowered back in alarm, my mind catching up with reality, just in time to force my arm down, right as I thought to pull the trigger on sheer reflex. A close call... Too close. I'd almost... Gods. I felt sick.

"Oh, a-ah hell!" Holding up a placating metal hand with some difficulty, I made a show of holstering the weapon, slow and deliberately. "Sorry 'bout that, friend. I really am." It was a lame apology, given the circumstances, but the start of another pounding headache and the cold weren't exactly catching me at my best. Though from the looks of him, this Faunus seemed almost used to it.

One of the mine workers out of Mantle, perhaps; an SDC tunnel rat? Come to think of it, that Dust embargo would be hitting them hard as well in the coming days. Folks just like this.

"Spare... Spare some Lien, please?"

"Huh? Spare some...? Oh! Uh, yeah."

So caught up in my own thoughts, I'd missed his first few words. The man repeating the question yet again before I'd finally understood what he was getting at.

Poor man must've been hungry, indeed, dreadfully desperate, or perhaps far braver than I gave him credit for. Usually, one doesn't stick around after a having a piece pulled on them, at least in my experience anyway.

Fishing out my wallet, I pulled every Lien chit I had at my disposal, which was a sizable amount indeed, and held it out to him. More than enough to see the poor fellow towards a few meals, perhaps even a bed for a couple nights.

It was the least I could offer after what almost happened, and it did earn a grateful smile as he closed the distance, if a nervous one. Not nervous in a fear sense, though. A strange pressure...

Something nagged at me... Some old instinct deadened and numb from lack of use; a tingling in my palms I'd learned to listen to over the years, for better or worse. More a phantom sensation in my metal limb...

...One that saw the prosthetic spurred to life the second I saw the distinct shimmer of bared steel, feeling the pressure like a vice capturing my good arm, and holding it in place.

My new friend had grabbed hold of the arm offering the money, dragging me off balance towards him as a knife appeared in hand. Curved and glinting wickedly underneath the flickering street lights above.

Instinct born of more than one scrape in my time led me to lash out, hoping for a solid kick to the affectionate bastard's legs, only to forget my own was done up in a brace. From a distance, the end result might've looked funny.

Personally, though? It felt as though fiery glass had shattered in my knee all over again. Shock spurred me to cry out, for all the good it did. No one was around to hear the struggle, let alone help me out.

Gone was the desperate beggar in an instant, replaced by the sure-footed stance and precisely-aimed aggression of a man poised to kill.

And once again, I got lucky. Stupidly so, in fact...

Idiot of an assassin had snatched the wrong arm when he'd made to stick my gut, obviously not expecting a metal wrist to knock aside the thrust. Rookie mistake. Thinking he got the message, though, machined muscle fiber and plating driving itself home in a back swing that sent the murderous Faunus flying in a lovely arc back off his feet into the alley.

The crashing * _clang_ * of waste bins tumbling to the floor was a comforting racket.

Unfortunately, from there I got _unlucky_. Stupidly so, in fact.

Rather than make a clean getaway - or as clean a getaway as a properly motivated rogue with a bum leg could manage - I found myself thrown off kilter by the momentum of my arm, and stumbling backwards into the road and a patch of ice conveniently missed by the drones.

Without warning, I was on the ground in a crumbled mess, smacking my head on the pavement so hard I saw stars, ass brused with my knee feeling like it'd just been gnawed on by a lonely Beowolf.

 _"Don't let him get away!"_

A deep-throated call rose up from across the way, strident and directed my way. More shapes revealed themselves, bleeding from the shadows of doorways and stoops until a quartet had filled the street, all armed and all bearing an animal trait that marked them as Faunus.

Six in all, then, including the first assailant staggering back into view to join them, having discarded his ragged coat, revealing the cracked white chest piece that lay underneath. The same all White Fang Grunts wore, just like the majority of the others. From the look on his puggish face, and the way he was tossing his knife between his hands, he hadn't much appreciated his short-lived flight into the garbage.

 _'Well, least I know who I'm up against...'_ White Fang...

To be fair, I'd stumbled my way into worse binds half-drunk and half-cocked... Though, those times, I'd usually had a certain silent guardian angel watching my back.

The speaker, a gruff-looking woman with an ebony black undercut, wearing the stylized full-faced Grimm-style mask of a White Fang officer and an armored bodysuit similar in design to those around her, if far more streamlined, and a pale white striped feline tail swaying behind her back, moved towards me with a loping gait.

A tiger Faunus, then. One with the hilt of a customized katana with two deadly sharp blades parallel to one another, and a shorter cutting edge below the customized hilt. The edges of all three hummed with energy, trailing brightly-lit afterimages as it cut the air at her side.

"Give up, Human! You can't run!" the Huntress called snidely whilst raising the blade. A silent order for the others to spread out into a loose semi-circle and surround me.

As if I was going anywhere fast, mechanical arm twitching and spasming, cold steel unable to find purchase on the ice-strewn pavement, misfiring nerve bundles from the fall setting my fingers dancing and flexing beyond my conscious control. It was little better than dead weight.

"Funny. Haven't been much of a runner for a while now, case ya hadn't noticed."

The jibe spilled from my lips before I could help myself, snub pistol practically appearing in hand, only to be sent flying in pieces with a single cut, along with the better part of three mechanical fingers. It didn't hurt... Maybe a bit of my pride...

"Gah, frickin' hell!" Little Ambrose was gonna kill... Why the hell am I worried about Ambrose at a time like this!? Think!

"Specialist Tactician Benjamin Carson."

"Lovely name, right? What's yours, darlin'?"

"Prepare to be judged."

"Now what kinda mama names her little girl somethin' like that?"

" _Rrgh!_ "

I was panicking, so I defaulted to what I did best... which I was surprised to find was heckling.

Ignoring their snarls and their sick laughter, I focused my attention on the important things. Like letting them think they had me... and trying not to think about how they already _did_. I looked around, gauging my options, eyes lingering on pug-face, meeting his scowl with a stern, disapproving shake of the head.

"Got something to say, Human?" he spat, all traces of the downtrodden guise discarded.

"Plenty. Y'know, I actually was feelin real bad 'bout pullin' on ya. Really." I raised a finger gun with my good hand, miming a shot. "And now you've gone and mucked it up for the next poor sod who comes askin'. Got me all paranoid, now. Dick move, friend."

"I'm no friend of...!?"

"Course not, figure of speech Furball. Keep up."

Silently, I willed myself to calm down, trying out a few of those silly meditations Joel had worked into my head, and was satisfied to see the twitching actually subside at least a tad, before I covered up the recovery by slamming my fist down and embedding it in the pavement, spooking all but the Huntress back a few steps.

It worked great for leverage, at least allowing me to sit up as I worked up the nerve to try to stand, eyes almost watering from the pain of maneuvering my leg. But in the end, I'd worked myself upright to an awkward hunch, patting the front of my uniform down.

Hardly the dignified pride of a Specialist, but when had I ever been conventional?

"Your many crimes against the White Fang end here, coward!" The Tigress leveled her blade, pointing its dual blades at my chest contemptuously, not even needing to show her face to make her smile obvious. "Any last words before we see justice done?"

"Mmm... I do, actually." So dramatic. Every time I meet one of these Whte Fang goons, they just _have_ to play it up. Well, two could play at that game. "Would ya mind not callin' me a ' _coward?_ ' Doesn't seem too fair."

"Oh?" Guess she found that pretty amusing, her laughter carried along on the smiles of the other four. "And why shouldn't I? The 'brave' Specialist, sitting in his airship, content to let his trained monsters hunt the heroes of my people. That sounds plenty like the actions of a coward to me!"

"Point taken, but ya've gotta admit, it's a might bit hypocritical from the grand scheme a things. Ain't it? 'Specially after your stunt in Vale." I looked around, nodding and shrugging as though trying to convince her fellows, unable to keep the grin from my face at the sight of their mild confusion. "Just sayin'. The White Fang are the ones apparently needin' Grimm to win your fights for ya. And now, they send - and I'm just guessin' here- a Huntress and four nobodies to take on an admittedly dashin' kid with a bum leg and one arm."

I pointed one of the few twitching metal digits I had left at my knee, placing the other hand on my hip to steady myself.

"Hardly seems fair, now does it?"

 _'Gotta time this right...'_

"And what would a Human possibly know of fairness!?"

Well, that certainly steamed her up, blade twitching as it sliced mere millimeters from my face, snipping a few blonde hairs and would've taken a fair bit more if I hadn't flinched back. The after lights from her swing were enough to leave me blinking, setting crimson wash streaking across my retinas.

"Lording yourselves over us Faunus, treating us like animals, even though we're _clearly_ of the superior race!... Brother Adam was right. You _should_ be the ones groveling for our mercy, forgiveness, and scraps!" The blade flicked back and forth, driving me backwards a stumbling step. "Actually, come to think of it... that's not a bad idea at all."

Begging for my life? Maybe make the end a bit faster?... Yeah, _as if!_

A pinging *click* sounded of a catch releasing, the Huntress the first to pick out the pin rattling softly across the pavement, masked visage staring, devoid of expression, at the grin splitting my face, and my arm tossing something towards her.

It was an old trick; a classic. One that had taken one of the most dangerous opponents I'd ever faced, and made him look pretty dang stupid.

Besides, who doesn't love watching assholes get a flashbang to the face, eh?

The palm-sized explosive wasn't much. Just a minor Dust charge designed to distract and disorient... Which, going by the shrieks of pain and alarm, worked just as Lil' Ambrose had intended.

Seeing my chance, I threw myself into a sword wielding grunt, shouldering her aside bodily with a flailing mechanical punch that almost succeeded in throwing me to the ground with her. It was too abrupt, too finicky to get down right, taking all my effort to move. And when by some miracle it did work, it was too powerful to hold back.

I couldn't worry about that now. I had to run, get some distance. Contact my security detail, and hope that they could... Gods, I've really screwed myself into a hole this time, haven't I?

Shouting a curse upon me, Humanity, or what have you, another of my assailants raced forward with a rapidly extending spear in hand, all traces of holding back forgotten in the heat of the moment. If I'd been any faster, he might've got me, even half-blinded and deafened from the lingering effects of the bomb.

As it was, he overestimated my hobbling gait, his stabbing thrust tearing a few jingling medals from my uniform, but thankfully nothing else. Thinking fast, I managed to hook the length of the spear underneath a metallic elbow, dragging the unfortunate bastard right into a face full of yellow-orange powder.

Diluted Death Stalker venom, another old favorite. A trick I'd kept up my sleeve - literally, in this case - for just such an occasion.

Even with the mask taking the worst of it, enough got through the slits and in his mouth to put him on the pavement, gasping and retching purple mucous and hissing bile from just about every orifice while I resumed my escape.

But he wasn't alone. The others were caught between off guard by their reeling leader and the surprise getaway, but already they were making up their minds, eyes fixed on me. Hidden weapons whirred to life in their hands, eyes fixed on my retreating back.

 _'No wonder she'd brought so many. She was expectin' to take on a bodyguard or two, perhaps trained soldiers... And I just limped into her sights like a...! **NO!** No, forget all that! You need to move! Get in touch with...!'_

A fist caught me by the scruff of the neck, wrenching me backwards and around. The knife-wielding Faunus scowled as he held his knife up high to take another stab at me, intent on making this one stick.

And he wasn't going to miss. Even as my Semblance slowed the world to a steady crawl, I could tell that much was obvious. From the trajectory of his downward thrust, to my arm's inability to properly catch it this time, stuttering from the shock and frantic panic of the scuffle.

I failed... I screwed up... I was gonna die... I was gonna die! _I was gonna...!_

" _Glory to the White Faaaaa-argh!?_ "

To a normal onlooker, it would've seemed instantaneous. A meaty fist that, in the moment, seemed as though it could've easily encompassed my head, appeared around the Faunus' neck, snatching hold and hoisting the struggling assassin bodily into the air, kicking and gasping for breath that refused to come.

I could follow it all, however, pupils dilating as Jasper Fullmark cannoned down from the rooftops with a monstrous impact, the force of which shattered ice-laced concrete, and threw me to the ground in a crumpled heap, clutching at ringing ears.

"Carson, I've got a question. Indulge me."

Oddly enough, despite my bodyguard's entrance just about deafening me, his voice still somehow carried even above the din and madness of it all. Almost casual.

The query was more demand than question, Jasper tipping his head back dispassionately, seeming hardly cognizant of the Faunus swiftly going purple in his grip, even as he caught the arm thrusting about with the knife in his free hand before it could jab into the meat of his thick neck.

"Are you the luckiest son of a bitch alive, or the opposite? Hard to tell at times."

"I-I... I can't really...?"

"Hmm, what was that? Gotta speak up!"

Muscled groups just barely contained in the confines of the windswept, straining Atlas dress uniform he wore, bereft of all rank and insignia... Anything to denote exactly what and who he was. Tendons and ligaments tensed and relaxed in subtle coordination one after the other, a loosening of tension like a spring being unwound.

A spring that slowly but surely crushed the man's wrist, forcing his hand to drop the infamous knife before plucking it from the air deftly, twirling it idly between broad knuckles.

 _'By the gods, he's a monster...'_

In more ways than one.

Of a size with the bully Cardin Winchester from back at Beacon, if one replaced thickheaded bulk with sculpted sinew crafted for a singular deadly purpose.

But it wasn't just the physical size that built up Fullmark that moment. It was a sheer sense of self that far outweighed anything else I'd ever encountered, save for a select few others.

 _"Force of personality,"_ Weiss had coined it...

Psycho and his foolhardy, stubborn endurance, the deceitful witch Elizabeth Briar, the blind, unyielding bastard Virgil Jett, and at times, even silent little Reika... The sort of souls that barely seemed contained by a body.

An Aura that dwarfed those around them simply by existing, the sheer gall of it influencing all in close proximity.

" _Gurk... Gha!?_ " the Faunus gasped, clawing at the arm, though the limb may as well have been made of steel, for all the good it did.

"Tsk... Never mind. Gimme a sec, would you?"

He kept kept squeezing with his other hand, too, applying slow, deliberate pressure to the Faunus' windpipe to the point I almost believed Jasper would snap the other man's neck outright. But no, that would be far too easy.

Despite the uniform, this was a Trapper, and his victim was White Fang.

Fullmark's Semblance was quite apt, a suitably blunt power for a straightforward individual. The natural ability to channel and direct his Aura into a physical force to augment his attacks or assault his enemies at range.

Its output was dependent on the situation at hand, capable of blasting back a pack of Grimm in one fell burst, or taking the can off a sweating soldier's brow for a bet at fifty paces.

Now imagine all that potential force, applied to a malleable skull of bone, bulging arteries, and a stressed Aura. Squeeze that down within the scope of a broad palm, and one could know what I saw in that brief instant. A flash of fiery orange fury, and the Faunus' head simply vanished.

Well... Not _simply..._ The sound of it... A body squelching against the ground at my feet.

I threw up all over the other man's shoes, and wasn't the least bit ashamed to admit it. It was horrible to watch.

"B-Brute!?"

I babbled the word from a set jaw amidst coughing spittle. It was a pseudonym he wasn't fond of. He hated it, really.

Stupid move on my part to possibly piss off the murderer, but with relief, horror, and excess adrenaline coursing through my veins in equal measure, it was difficult to help myself. Not after that casually gruesome display, thick clotted spots marking my front, staining the scuffed white of my own jacket a new heady crimson that made me gag just to take a whiff.

Impossibly, my defender was untouched, spotless.

"Wha... How!?"

A smile, sounded out by rumbling stone fall possessive of the usual, boisterous mien I'd come to expect of the man after weeks of close contact; a voice used to screaming and shouting in the midst of battle. Capable of projecting confidence, no... more utter assurance with every declaration.

"Y'all were followin' me?"

"'Course. Echo bugged your Scroll, remember? And you were so busy talking to yourself, I didn't want to interrupt." He tapped his own pocket with the point of the knife, indicating the device tucked within. "Good thing, too. I'll tell ya, those White Fang. Always popping up where you least expect them. When they're _not_ wanted."

There was a bitter humor there behind the casual tone and smile I could hear on his lips, even if I couldn't quite make out his face in the dim light, but that wasn't everything. A predatory fury, an exultant amusement I'd only ever heard on the short-wave transmissions while JADE's leader and his fellows were on mission.

A feeling I could go my whole life without ever experiencing again.

I could barely breath, let alone speak, almost recoiling as he leaned over, holding out a hand to help me up.

"So you just let me get surrounded!?" Indignation colored the words, with fair reason. And then my mind filled in the blanks, pissing me off even more. "You used me a _bait!_ "

"Had to make sure we got all the rats. White Fang do love a show." The former Trapper smiled, my hand firmly grasped in his, practically lifting me off my feet like I was some bag of feathers. "Besides, you came out alright... You _are_ alright, aren't you, Boss?"

"Yeah... Yeah, I reckon so. Ya stepped in just before he... _Gah!?_ "

I doubled over, air forced sharply from my lungs, Jasper removing his fist from my sternum, and watching my renewed retching with a vindictive gleam in those hooded steely grey eyes. If my stomach hadn't been emptied in the first retch, it certainly was now.

" _Wha_... What the hell're ya d-doin...!?"

" _That_ was for ditching us, Carson. For making me scramble around in the freezing cold after your dumb ass, and making the cute couple worry aboutcha. It's not nice, or something a proper Commander should do. Don't you think?"

The palm that clapped against my metal shoulder almost killed me, I think, gears screeching under all too crushing force, the pressuring sound of straining steel pulling against my skin stealing all other thought, and focus except for the Trapper kneeling in close, voice almost a whisper.

"So, let me make this _perfectly_ clear... It was funny at first, but pull this sort of vanishing stunt again, or wander off without me, Garrett, or Cherry-Pie to back you up _again_ , and Specialist or no - Ambrose's friend or no - I _will_ snap the other leg like a dry twig... Understand, _sir?_ "

"C-C...C-clear as day, soldier. _Gah,_ I think ya broke somethin'!..."

"Good! It'll keep you in place. Get used to that," he said far too cheerfully than one in this situation should be. "Now c'mon, let's see a smile. We want you looking nice and safe for when the others catch up."

"But I...!?"

 _"Don't. Move._ "

It was like staring down a Grimm, a predator sizing me up, and it left me feeling a bit lightheaded. His will, crushing mine like some ant.

Then the pressure was gone, the killing Aura redirected, Fullmark straightening up and turning on his heel to face the Faunus arrayed before us. The remaining four hadn't moved an inch, wary of the sudden intruder and death of their comrade, knuckles white, clutching tightly at weapons.

"Manage that, and in return, I'll take care of the pests like a good bodyguard ought to. Sound good, Carson? 'Yeah, reckon' it does Jas. Thank ya so much for all ya do.' Aw, don't mention it, Boss. You're embarrassing me in front of the animals..."

Mocking me, was!?... Ah, well, not like I didn't deserve it.

"Ah, I see," the Huntress purred dangerously, voice leveled despite the clear anger chilling the declaration. "I wondered when you might show yourself. One of the famous Carson's pet Trappers."

"And you're the dead cat the Fang sent to try and take his head," Jasper called back, teeth flashing at the bristling hunch to his counterpart's stance, the way her weapon hummed as it was brought to bear alongside her fellows. "What? We're stating facts aren't we?" Ah, Fullmark. Cordial as always, even when outnumbered. "Sadly, that just happens to be his best looking quality, and the most useful. Can't let you just cut it short."

He cocked his head dismissively towards the others, surreptitiously scanning weapons and faces. I could almost see the wheels turning in his head, the same look that would sometimes cross Joel's face in situations like this. Fullmark was planning the fight out in his head already, weighing odds, preparing himself.

"But I'll be nice. Anyone with doubts about how this'll end for them - any at all - walk away now and it ends! This is the one chance you're getting, freaks!"

No takers, at least not from the determined creases in the expressions I could make out underneath the masks. The insult hadn't really helped, I'd wager.

"Really? No one at all?"

An expectant look towards me, and I realized the bastard was waiting for the okay. He was waiting for permission to be unleashed.

A fitting word, considering what he and I both expected to happen.

And permission I gave him with a bitter nod, followed up swiftly by another retching cough.

"Entertainment value still stands, then. Yay me." Jasper sized up the White Fang, looking downright giddy with anticipation. "Was getting bored with droids, and I don't even have to share with the kiddos. Bonus."

"Arrogant fool! You'd face us alone?" The Tigress almost seemed raring up to laugh, a feeling that abruptly vanished as Fullmark pulled out his Scroll, his ill-gotten knife twirling in hand lazily in wide arcs. "Without even a proper weapon? You insult me, Trapper. Insult us all!"

"Oh, don't you worry, Kitty Cat. I intend to do _far_ worse than that by the time we're done."

He keyed in a few commands with a bastard's wry smile, a split second glance at the Scroll all I needed to notice an estimated countdown flashing across the screen.

"But hey, I'll give you lot something of a head start. S'only fair right? You lot have an issue with that from what I heard."

The remote homing signal for the rocket-propelled storage systems slaved to the _Rock Star._ Sitting miles away back in dry dock, grounded for months, but more than ready to send the warrior's weapon racing to hand at the press of a button.

A special request of Ironwood during construction, based affectionately off Beacon's locker design. So many potential uses in one brilliant feature. Of course, it was never meant to be used inside Atlas itself.

 _'I'm gonna be payin' out the bum for infrastructure, I swear...!'_

"Alrighty, then! You animals have about... hmm, thirty or so seconds before shit gets real!"

A quick swipe keying in the coordinates, and for a split second, I almost imagined I could hear the distant thunder of an engine roaring to life, likely accompanied by its fair share of startled screams and weary groans from technicians as hull plating slid free in a rapid fire series of firing charges to avoid the messy holes left by Beacon's liftoffs.

Then the red-lit Scroll was gone, vanishing back in his pocket with only the steady * _beep*_ to provide background to the fight at hand.

"I suggest you make 'em count!"

* * *

 **-END**

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 **A/N: Well ain't this troubling? Ha ha?**

 **Ben's about to be caught up in some Trapper v. White Fang action after a rough reunion with Mom too (Things are understandably a bit tense), and not only is Joel hearing voices he's also hearing gunshots. Rough night man.**

 **-Mojo**

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 **(Next Chapter: Trappers step out into the spotlight, for good or ill)**


	19. Chapter 19

_**Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_

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FRENZY & TRAPPERS

* * *

 ** _-Jasper Fullmark-_**

Thirty seconds... Thirty seconds for my new sparring partners to throw everything they had at me, and see what happens...

' _Perhaps maybe a bit too generous for my own good?'_ I lamented, sighing a deep breath as a duel blade tore yet another pair of cuts across my uniform, the jacket and trousers practically reduced to tatters and stained from as many cuts.

Definitely a bit too cocky, though it wouldn't be the first time. Not where a certain Tiger Faunus former Huntress was concerned, at any rate, judging by how she moved.

That grace about her was beyond that granted by what she was, a confidence and ease of movement that spoke of dedicated practice. Almost familiar, the way she moved, the flexibility in the forms...

' _Vacuo-trained, maybe? I might be fighting my countrywoman...White Fang or no.'_ Certainly a well-trained countrywoman, at that. One of those who had made the leap from fighting Grimm to fighting men with grace, but the signs were there.

The dogged determination, for one. Always just a step behind, that glowing sword of hers cutting tight streaks trailing like a strobe pulsing across my vision, passing within millimeters of contact with flesh, until batted aside or dodged by a hair.

A clever use for a simplistic tactic. I might have even said as much if she hadn't tried to remove my head fifteen separate times in half as many seconds.

She was fairly specific in that regard, stance geared towards moving her blade in flitting arcs that made it seem more a blurred streak of neon rather than anything tangible, but one that had already taken a few cuts at the sleeves of my uniform. Close calls that had taken the flat of my borrowed knife - and no small amount of cursing - to avoid.

Pretty sure it was about what I did to her comrade.

A bit showy, sure, but that was the thing about making a point. You actually had to make a _point._

" _Rrgh! Grah-ha! Murderer!_ "

The curse exploded from the grille of her face mask, body shifting into a high kick that crashed against my forearms, spring boarding off my guard to land in a hunched crouch like some feral predator stalking its prey.

Sword weaving parallel dual-edged contrails through the air like a rose colored serpent, a flicker stream of light that flickered and dimmed before suddenly lashed out opposite of where I'd thought it might with near fatal intent.

" _Monster!_ "

" _Hah_! Look- _ah_!... Look in a mirror lately!? Who's wearing the Grimm Mask here!?"

A quick step back to avoid a sweeping riposte that moved like lightning and tore concrete chips flying from the street, a shoulder to the side followed up by a few jabs to drive her back, and I charged within range, knife flitting from hand to hand, striking at whatever opening I could spot.

"Give ya a hint, Kitty! Ain't... _Grr_... _Ain't me!_ "

The idea was to off balance her, and it might have worked, too, if the Tigress wasn't so damned lively, dodging or deflecting my efforts rather than taking them head on. Darting away one moment, only to skirt back in the next with another probing strike coming from every conceivable angle, sometimes coming so close I could feel the breath leaving the slits in her mask, the pop of displaced air following her swings.

Hit and Run. Always was an annoying tactic. Unless you were the one using it, of course.

 _'Not much time left to play around...'_

Our feet practically intertwined in some mad dance... and then we were apart with another deft swing of the glowing blade, this one shearing right through the supports of a flickering lamp post. The construct toppled sidelong with an ear-splitting crash that almost saw a sword in my gut, as the high-keening note reverberated through my eardrums.

It was concerning, painful... and utterly _exhilarating_!

Moving like this, fighting like _this..._ Blood pounding through my veins, Aura burning in my soul after so many weeks of nothing but weaklings and drones... Endless practices and idiotic restrictions.

As much as I'd hated to admit it, I'd been bored. And it had grated like an itch. One that nagged and chafed no matter how many sparring matches, obstacle courses, or self-imposed workouts I did. But _finally,_ I was back in my element at last.

The combined rush of her heartbeat and mine thundering together in my ears, the steady hum emanating from her weapon setting the pace for the duel. And a duel it was, the pair of us practically alone for all the impact others had on us. Carson was unable to do more than watch and snark, her fellows capable of little better. None so far removed from the typical faceless idealists the White Fang tended to fill its bloated ranks with, trying admirably to keep pace, but none could hope to match the speed or intensity with which we came together, or likely hope to survive amid the storm of steel and limbs.

So, of course, they did the next best thing about twenty seconds into my heated unarmed bout with the feline. Two of the Faunus turned on their heels, and made a beeline for Carson, who'd taken shelter behind a bench.

One managed to level the boxy rifle he'd spent the last few seconds trying to draw a bead on me with, and failing. Now with a different target in mind, the Specialist set in his sights, the blonde was unable to do much more than scowl.

All it would take was a quick burst to shatter his flagging Aura like tissue paper, and other to put the cheeky bastard down for good... Couldn't have that, but saving him could prove a might bit risky.

An idea formed the moment the distant sound of rumbling engines bled into range of my senses.

Despite being a general pain in my ass, especially after pulling stunts leading to this little debacle, Carson wasn't to be harmed. More than just the fact that he was considered an ally of the wayward Ambrose, he was also probably the only man with any authority willing to cut JADE a break. Wear the collar, keep track of the younger kids, don't do anything too untoward or wander off, salute at least half the times we're supposed to... Do that, and we were practically golden. That was our deal.

Who was to say any replacement of his would be so allowing?

It was simple logic. Logic that saw me taking a pair of deep cuts to my side from a thrust that _really_ should've hurt far more than it did. A bug bite, really, for all that I felt.

As things stood, the Huntress hesitated a brief instant, as if surprised she'd managed to actually draw first blood. A backhanded slap that sent cracks webbing across her mask would see that brief flicker of pause dealt with, I imagined through a brief grimace of annoyance rather than pain.

All that fuss, just so I could turn and throw my Scroll at the would-be gunman's feet, the device skittering across the round until landing face-up, display counting down. Leaping back, my hapless victim examined the flickering screen warily... and then himself, noting the swiftly growing beginning to engulf him entirely.

 ** _00:00:03_**

 ** _00:00:02_**

 ** _00:00:01_**

 ** _"JADE-01 INCOMING - BRACE FOR IMPACT"_**

" _Wha...!?_ " the Faunus started, raising his head just in time to vanish underneath the impact of a few hundred pounds of rocket-propelled, iron wonder.

Its impact was enough to set the ground underfoot swaying dangerously, and outright knocked all but myself and the Huntress from their feet. The air was filled with shattered stone dust. And the sound... Gods, that was enough to set my teeth vibrating on edge, and I'd been braced for it.

My opponents, however, weren't so lucky.

Too bad for them. It was just the opening I needed, kicking the Huntress away, and maneuvering myself through the cloud of debris towards the landing site.

"This has been fun, but I think it's time to kick things up a notch, shall we!?"

The cry ruled even over the sound of grinding metal and a sudden _*whoosh*_ of air, as well as the shape of something flying end over end through the dust, the all too familiar compacted shape of my _Furioso_ snapping into my hand.

Fingers easily finding their place along the cudgel's crimson-wrapped. well-worn handle, I detected the faint mechanical whirring, and felt the building warmth in my palm as the great weapon swiftly built to life.

" _Home run!_ " A stupid catchphrase coined by my sister years before. When had that been? I shook my head, shoving aside the distraction and thoughts of Glimmer all in one. It didn't matter, of course. Not right now.

My partner, my companion... The thing that sent the gunman's partner hurtling through the air to smack against the side of a nearby building mere seconds later. The dagger-wielding deer woman left a slightly darker smear across its face that showed in the dim light of failing lamps. A good warm up, now that I was officially going on the offensive.

 _'No more playing around...'_

I turned towards the remaining trio of foes, working the remaining kinks out of my arm in wide circular that also worked to build momentum. A trigger gunned extended the weapon's handle to its full length, widening the arc, and shifting the weapon from cudgel to maul in a series of sparking clicks and whirring gears.

My focus was intent on the Huntress as I rejoined the fight with a burst of Aura-enhanced speed that sent chips of broken masonry flying behind me.

To be fair to my remaining adversaries - downright respectful, even - these animals had some spirit to them beyond the usual rank and file I was used to dealing with. They never faltered, even as _Furioso's_ notched head flattened the bones of a weepy-eyed bugger with a spear to fine powder upon whirling contact. A face turned red and raw from Carson's little venom surprise turned red now for quite a different reason, surprise the last expression I noted casually, following through with the swing, and kicking what was left back towards his allies, knocking one squeamish fool down in a tangle of flailing limbs, earning a low chuckle.

 _'Surprise!'_ That was another popular expression I'd found after years of this sort of work, right after the typical fear and abject terror. On my enemies, on my allies... The disbelief at such an abrupt ending was a strangely distinct, if morbid similarity shared by all with a soul.

Even the bravest Faunus or most foolhardy Trapper had that in common. Few people ever saw it coming. Better that way, in my opinion.

I brought the maul away from the downward swing I'd projected, and instead maneuvered the momentum of the attack about at an unexpected angle, if at a deceptively slow pace, giving the poor bastard the idea I'd tried something fancy and mucked it up. That he might have had a chance to block my attack, perhaps batter aside the haughty Trapper's mistake and win the day.

No such luck, I'm afraid.

My free hand slid up the length of the well-worn handle, settling behind the eye of the cudgel. A touch of motivation from my Semblance accelerating the motion from a ponderously telegraphed arc into a scything wall of sheer unstoppable velocity in less than a heartbeat. It almost tore itself from my grasp, and set my whole body spinning in a mad rush of vertigo, the swing carrying forth inexorably, avoiding his fleeting attempts at a guard entirely before it really even had time to really form. I then came around once more, and... Well, the results spoke for themselves

Instead of trying to wrestle the hefty maul for control - long years of use and a fair few scars proof of such a futile venture - I made use of the impetus. Technique and proper application tailored into how I fought. _Furioso_ could be a temperamental little beast, but also an overeager partner. The trick was making that work for me.

It was far more difficult than it looked, to be sure, but the stunned looks on the faces of those I fought - those faces I could see anyway not covered by the usual Grimm Mask - were _priceless._

There was always some mistaken assumption that I was some lumbering bruiser. Slow and strong, but not much else. An assumption not without cause, I would admit. So I played it up when it suited me, my size not exactly making it difficult. Many never seemed to realize that, for all the intimidation factor they possessed, the big lumbering sorts never really tended to last very long on a battlefield, where mobility was key, and victory often came down simply to who moved faster and struck harder.

 _'Plus, standing out's a great way to get focused...'_ And when one got focused, one got dead, no matter the level of armor and Aura one had.

So of course, I adapted as proper, as I'd been trained. Was always good at that. It's why I was still breathing, where so many of my fellows... Well...

 _'Damn it...'_

Spinning aside like a top, blocking all possibles angles of a counterattack, I letting it carry me to where I desired, spinning gracefully through the night sky to land in a neat roll, skidding to my feet several meters to bleed off the excess velocity. Rising with a bowing bit of flair, my weapon never ceased its deadly momentum as I kept the length spinning end over end in my palm and about my body defensively.

" _Next!_ " I called mockingly to the pair, sighing at the hesitation I could sense, _Furioso_ finally slamming home to rest over my shoulder. "Or do I have to come to you? 'Cause one way or another we're _ending this!_ " I glanced about at the pockmarked wreck the street was fast becoming, maintenance drones drawn by the commotion stumbling about, trying to pick a place to start their fruitless repairs, sirens blaring in the distance as military units and police both tried form a response. "Might wanna hurry up and decide! Doesn't look like we got much time!"

 _'Even so, they're still slow, meaning that something might be holding 'em up.'_ Reasonable assumption, meaning they likely had people on the inside or sympathetic to the White Fang's cause running decoy. A cover for the murder of a Specialist. _'A problem for later, if I don't deal with the Huntress now.'_

She would be weighing her options. It's what I would do, and what I had done a hundred times over the last few years working for both the Red Hand and Carson. There was no shame in it. Happened all the time. A plan had met with a hitch, though if she still meant to escape...

"...You... You're not what we were told to expect. Carson should've only had children left to protect him." The Tigress bristled, her tail swaying with barely-contained agitation, and... a hint of respect. Interesting. "I'd have your name, Trapper, before I kill you."

Ah, false bravado. Nothing I hadn't heard a dozen times before, but if she wanted to play along...

"...Jasper Fullmark. Former Trapper of the Red Hand, and one of the first trained at the feet of that bastard Violette, himself."

I tapped a finger against _Furioso's_ handle, rubbing at a spot of muck or blood gumming the trigger guard. Whether my little announcement had shaken either of them, I couldn't quite be sure, what with their masks, though Carson was gaping like some fish pulled from the water.

"And you... You're from... Vacuo, right?"

"Indeed. As are you, I take it?" She bowed her head, motioning for her subordinate to flee subtly, though I knew enough from experience to see the signs. Her buddy wanted to leave, but he didn't want to leave her, the conflict obvious... "That's a shame. You shouldn't have left the sands of home."

"Well, that's more your lot's fault than mine, isn't it!?" I spat back, narrowing my eyes as the sole remaining goon made a break for it, vanishing down one of the innumerable alleys and vanishing from sight. "Still, you're right... It's a shame. You shouldn't have left Vacuo either."

"I had a duty to my people. To see them freed from Humanity and its tyranny."

"And I had a duty to my parents. To see them avenged for what you bestial trash did to them." The air hung heavy between us, cold and bitter. I almost imagined I could hear her fingers digging into the hilt of her sword over the wind, a sound matched my shifting footing. "A shame, then."

"...A shame," she agreed.

I couldn't tell you what signaled it, or who moved first, but in an instant, the wide patch of ground between us was split asunder with the flash of conflicting Auras, wreathing both body and weapon alongside the clamor of ringing metal and displaced air pressure that set nearby windows rattling in their frames. Concrete splintered and crushed beneath our boot heels. Muted grunts of exertion bit back behind gritted teeth and, in her case, a faceless grille.

My masked foe's curious steel lunged out in tight executed strokes, staining my once pristine uniform crimson. _Furioso_ and its whirling radius formed a perimeter that pummeled and carved deep depressions and ruptures in her own defenses, her Aura unable to mitigate the blunt trauma of each glancing hit entirely.

And all the while, that sword darted past my face like some dual-headed serpent of light, crimson dancing pulsing across my vision, even in those rare instances I allowed myself to blink.

The temptation to lose myself in the boiling anger and nigh-instinctive disgust at not just who I was fighting, but _what_.

A swordswoman stood against me. A Faunus fighting and willing to risk her life for a cause she believed in... And I _hated_ her for it.

That damned mask, her ideology, what she represented and what she was willing to do. Just like the bastards that had hurt my parents. Who'd killed Mom...

It was a clarity of purpose so similar to Virgil, the bastard that had taken Glimmer from me. It would've been so easy to give into the frenzy, and I did, in a way. Drawing strength from my feelings, letting them strengthen my resolve, and gird my Aura.

As Violette had been so fond of teaching - often painfully, at that - only fools fought angry. Anger was a thing for the Blood Hounds and the animals. It stole reason, and poisoned resolve.

Of course, the opposite was little better in a Huntsman's case, fighting cold, detached, and mechanically like some Atlas drone, which would only see you broken like one just as easily. Aura was a power of spirit. The strength of a soul's will, and our emotions giving it purpose. To deprive it of either would only see the whole wither.

Learning to manage those feelings - to draw from them naturally, without effort - was _key._

Step by step, meter by meter, we drove and spun about the other in a bid to avoid and attack, parry and counter, injure and endure. But there was always a limit. She was wavering, her reactions slowing, and I was showing no such signs. If anything, I was growing stronger with each passing second.

 _That,_ more than anything else, was what made a Trapper so dangerous. Beyond the weapons, the silly augmentations, and the skill was our purpose. Our strength of willpower, in the face of the thing we hated, could see our reserves become nigh-inexhaustible.

We didn't give up. We didn't submit. And until the target was dust or we were... we _would_ _ATTACK!_ And she knew this. She would have to finish this one way or another.

Tigress was a wily kitten, for certain, knowing how to offset my superior reach and size. She disengaged and deflected rather than stand to fight, believing she could take hits like her now-headless comrade from before, maneuvering herself inside my guard to take full advantage in the struggle. Moreover, she was able to take the chances given when they arose.

Carson cried out a warning as I'd brought up the shaft of my weapon up to knock aside her own, only to find the sword wasn't there. Far too late and utterly pointless, his bleating was little more than background noise lost in the sensory deluge. As if I hadn't already realized my error the moment I found my attack battered aside with hilt instead of glowing blades, the bitch having taken advantage of her weapons distracting properties to catch me unawares. Smart...

 _Too_ smart.

And almost a shade too fast, a quick gun of my cudgel's trigger igniting the rocket mounted at an angle behind the weapon's head, Burn Dust detonating in a screaming explosion of propulsion that seared my retinas, and gave the Huntress a moment's pause, especially when I'd used my Semblance to shove the bulk of the explosion her way, fire licking at her Aura, and searing her mask a charred black.

A handy trick. Shame it didn't halt the weapon's momentum.

A distinct popping sound cracked forth from two fingers as the weapon spun about in place before me, tearing furrows in the masonry. The spiked end almost clipped my head as it passed, until my good hand could snatch a hold of it with desperate reflex, something tearing in the muscle at my wrist.

It probably should've been painful; agonizing, really. And in that moment, I actually rejoiced in what Doctor Raleigh and his mad science had done to me.

"Desperate" was the word for it, but it had knocked aside an attack that would have probably bifurcated my neck. Now if only that was the end of it, sirens fast approaching, her time almost up... And she knew it, making her choice in a split second of cold logic.

"Had... Had enough?" I grinned, rolling shoulders tight and probably aching in agonized cramps I couldn't feel fully.

"Enough of _this!_ "

Aura flashing a pale white, the Huntress roared a feral snarl as her dual katana slammed against _Furioso's_ handle in a renewed wave of cracking, Dust-borne energy. A burst move utilizing much of her remaining energy no doubt, and sent me hurtling backwards, air knocked from my lungs, two deep cuts crisscrossing my chest.

" _Out of my way!_ "

Feet impacting hard against the outward brick face of a neon-lit building, I was left blinking past the sudden sense of weightlessness, and an overwhelming urge to vomit, until a free hand clasped a jutting piece of a window sill.

I realized her intent with something akin to shocked disbelief and righteous indignation. She wasn't pursuing me, no... Instead, she had her mind set on a different target altogether.

The reason that had brought her here in the first place...

"Y-You...! You _little...!_ "

Carson's yelp of shocked surprise only confirmed the Tigress' intentions, the Huntress swiftly slicing the bench the Specialist had been using for cover to pieces with disdainful ease as my charge scrambled back. Not that he was entirely helpless, hand fumbling in the inner linings of his uniform and pockets, throwing everything he had in an attempt to drive her off, though to little effect.

In the few seconds I perched there against the edifice, dazed, with my skull ringing, her mask had already rebuked a plume of yellowish powder, all while her sword neatly intercepted a handful of thrown cylinders that pattered to the ground ineffectually in sections, spilling bright Dust across the pavement. All the while she advanced, stalking her prey like a feline predator, cornering the shivering Carson like some rat.

Certainly intimidating, and I could appreciate that from a professional point of view... but all I was focused on was just how _insulting_ it was. The Huntress had given up on finishing him quickly, but if she could kill the blonde rogue...

...Images of Glimmer sprang uncomfortably to my mind. Not my sister as I wanted to remember her, no... But what that bastard Virgil had reduced her to. And not just her. Years of comrades lost while I could do nothing...

It was despicable, _infuriating..._ Anger like burning lead coursed hot and heavy through my veins in a renewed spike of adrenaline.

 _' **Not this time!** '_

My eyes narrowed through the stinging grit, sighting on my prey as the hand holding me aloft let go, now glowing with a fierce Auratic light that rumbled in my palm. Gravity took hold once more, my legs kicking off the same instant I released the energy that had been mounting, and gunned the trigger on my weapon.

" _JUST WHO DO YOU THINK YOU'RE HUNTING, BITCH!?_ "

All that anger, irritation, and disgust expelled from my palm at once. Combined with the explosive discharge of a Burn Dust ignition charge... Suffice it to say, Carson would be left paying a hefty sum to somebody for what my Semblance did to my impromptu launchpad.

Windows shattered from over pressure, a chunk of masonry blew apart from the facing, and what looked to be a lovely - and more importantly empty, from what I could tell - sitting room collapsed inward in the wake of the explosion.

He'd get over it, I was sure. It meant the sly bandit would still have his head.

Tigress barely even had time to look up before I smashed into her bodily with all the subtlety of a truck, and likely double the force. Her sword grazed my shoulder as I angled my body around her feeble attempt at a counter.

Bones creaked and snapped - not all of them hers - as I forced the numbed fist not currently clinging to the smoking, Variable Maul for dear life into her sternum in a crash of Aura on Aura. Blood coughed from her mouth grille against my face. I didn't care, whirling her around bodily off the ground before another howling, final burst from my Semblance propelled her from my grasp and into the side of the closest stretch of shopping outlets in a spray of masonry and glass.

Her body's trajectory plowed a deep trench along their storefronts, she rebounded roughly in a spray of neon sparks and sputtering white light from her now-savaged defenses. What I could make out was twitching and moving... if only _just._

That she even still had defenses at all after a hit like that was a miracle in itself... meaning I'd _personally_ have to make sure there wasn't another.

 _"Always finish what you start."_ That's the rule...

"...done enough..." a voice spoke up on the edge of my hearing. It was a chattering gnat, really, not worth regarding. Not with the prey on the ropes.

"Buzz off! I'm _finishing this!_ " I braced myself, preparing to charge forward again, and ignore the tightness in my thigh and arm for later, issues for later... when a metal hand clamped down on my shoulder, thinking to hold me back. " _I'm not...!_ "

"You've done _enough,_ Brute. It's done. _She's_ done. Stand down. That's an _order._ "

...Brave. Indescribably stupid to anyone with a pulse... but gods, was it brave. If I'd been in any better shape, Carson likely would've wound up broken on the ground, though as it stood, I think I just might've snapped a few gears in his wrist shaking him off.

It was laughable, really, that the man in front of me thought he could order _me_ to do anything. What a sick joke... He was so... _small._

Barely standing on that bum leg of his, the Specialist's once pristine dress whites stained tar black and ash grey from sweat and dust, along with just about every square inch of exposed flesh visible, that fair hair of his matted down and uneven in places where that blade lying only a few meters away where it had fallen had cut just a little too close.

Worst of all was the arm, now that I really looked at it. Most of the sleeve was cut or torn asunder, three fingers reduced to little more then sparking nubs. The rest, along with most of the limb itself, twitched haptically from nerve spasms Carson couldn't seem to get under control.

Pitiful, really. The last time I'd seen him look so bedraggled was after he'd stumbled down from Beacon Tower after fighting gods only knew what.

...But he _was_ standing, even so.

Lights were appearing now, cars back-lit by whirring sirens that grated on my ears accompanied by silver-hulled troop carriers rumbling around the corners of both side streets, the latter already splitting open on either side to disgorge the squads of AK-200s folding within.

Dimly, I was even aware of the airships humming above through the smoke and dust, lights piercing down to illuminate the wrecked mess I'd made of the block, footsteps echoing only a few feet away, familiar voices crying out...

I was tired. _Damned_ tired, adrenaline bleeding away, and leaving me aching in more places than I cared to admit. That I was aching at all was testament to my current state...

Rest would be nice. A nice, long, relaxing stint on the most comfortable bed I could grab. Maybe a massage to clear my head...

But the Huntsman was wrong... I _wasn't_ done. Not yet.

Not yet _by far..._

* * *

 **-Elizabeth Briar-**

Really, of all the things I'd expected to hear at some small, Podunk town festival in the middle of nowhere, be it off-key folk music, cringeworthy flirting, the "riveting" talks concerning grain harvests... gunshots had somehow evaded the list.

It really shouldn't have surprised me, really, but it did. More than I'd thought it would, too.

Perhaps due to some foolishness or inane comfort on my part, I'd grown lax here in Akai-Hana, believing us safe. Content to allow Joel handle the brunt of keeping an eye out, and focus instead on my studies and healing.

 _'Stupid, stupid, stupid...!'_

"S-Sienna!? W-what's going on!? Was that a gun...!?"

"Yes, it was. Now kindly _shut up_! Let me think!" I didn't have time for inane questions, Not with answers woefully absent.

Scenarios ran through my head, some dismissed outright, others just too outlandish. Determining the situation took priority. I couldn't get out of trouble until I knew I was in it...

Of course, the Faunus huffed at my tone, pride overwhelming sense. Girl had some backbone, I had to admit that... "Don't... D-don't talk to me like... _Eek!_ "

That backbone was subsequently crushed in a strangled yelp. Her mind and spirit recoiled at the crushing weight of cold, crushing pressure my Semblance exuded, force of personality amplified, the "cold shoulder" pushed to purely frigid degrees. So much so, my mere touch could have sent her cowering.

Frankly, I was surprised she didn't wet herself then and there, knees shaking so loud they almost clattered, too shocked by the sudden shift that she couldn't even think to recoil.

It couldn't be helped, but it did shut her up.

" _Quiet!_ Stay close, and don't lose sight of me!" I could hit myself for screwing up later. Now I had to act. I shouldered the teary-eyed Snake Faunus into cowering cover behind me, even if the move felt as though I'd just dragged glass shards down that particular arm. "And stop blubbering! You're a big girl, aren't you!? Act like it!"

With a measure of calm, my Semblance altered the allure of my Aura in a flash. Too fast, the sudden change was too confusing, her face burying itself into my back painfully as her emotions rebelled. Right into the core of the branding, too, my shoulders feeling as though they'd just been broken, reshaped, than shattered again in the span of seconds.

The ache of it was jaw-clenching, the anger even more so...

 _' **Stupid, stupid, stupid, godsdamned mother of a half-spawned...!** '_

Panicking festival-goers milled around in confusion. Most were caught between the usual two silly extremes when it came to reacting to any sort of trouble. A fair few startled into nervous whispering silence, or yelping in wide-eyed panic like Nevermores with their heads chopped off as they sought the reason behind the danger. So predictable...

Nothing I hadn't seen - and caused - many times before. _'Of course, there's a damned difference between using it and being stuck in it...'_

My frayed senses pinpointed the source of the disruption quickly enough: a broad-shouldered man sporting a brilliantly crimson beard and hair to match. He was decked up in traveling clothes of an eclectic mix of leather in shades of maroons and browns, accented with heavily-customized Atlesian body armor underneath, heavily laden with bandoleers and pouches. A pair of holsters hung at his belt, one laden with what appeared to be a bladed sawed-off shotgun, the other meant for the smoking holdout pistol tucked neatly in a raised, meaty fist.

He looked like trouble, and, judging by the stomping feet and whirring thrum of murmurs in the crowd, it was safe to say he wasn't alone either.

Similarly dressed men and women surrounded the pavilion, cutting off escape routes and herding folks back. Each carried the standard-issue folding sabers afforded to Atlas Troopers at their waists, and box-like rifles slung at their backs. None drawn or posturing, but it was clear at a glance that could change fast if the need arose.

To see that level of equipment was curious... and concerning. Going by appearance, these rough-looking louts might have had a bit of trouble passing muster in the Northern Kingdom, what with their haphazard looks. Atlas Soldiers weren't exactly subtle, but this was too extreme even for them.

That meant mercenaries, hired guns... or _worse..._

"M- _Mr. Rouge!?_ " My head snapped around to stare at the trembling snake Faunus, the blonde quivering at the sight of the man, recognition clear as day on her face.

Before I could demand an explanation, however...

" _A mighty fine evenin' to y'all, fine people of Akai-Hana!_ " the man on the table - and clearly the ringleader of this little troupe - called out in a grandiose flourish of one arm while the other made a show of holstering the provoking weapon at his side. His voice had thick drawl that was so common in the Badlands, the tonal similarities between his and that of Benjamin Carson's unmistakable.

"Our sincerest apologies for, uh...'interruptin'' your festivities in such a crass, unwholesome manner! It's just shoutin' seemed a bit pointless, what with the music and all. Had to take a faster approach! Y'all understand," he says while shouting. _Wonderful..._ "Though I must say, you folks do know how to throw a fine bash!"

His people nodded approvingly, scanning the crowd, looking for something... or _someone._ Three guesses on who that could be, my whole body tensing at another spike of punishing heat from my arms, the dull limbs hanging limply at my sides utterly useless. Couple that with Snake Girl shivering at my back, whimpering and hissing into the voluminous sleeves of her robe. I even thought I heard Joel's alias muttered a few times.

 _'So annoying...'_ I couldn't pick the Huntsman out from the crowd, and he was no longer seated where I'd left him. If he was smart, he'd be gauging the situation as I was... But knowing Joel as I did...

"Everyone calm yourselves, now! Stop fussing!" Anbā, that old fox, stomped her way from the onlookers looking, like a storm in the flesh, her face even giving our uninvited guest a small measure of pause. How a middle-aged woman in an apron could pull that of without a Semblance like mine, I wish I knew. "You... I recall you hanging around my establishment a few days ago. Quiet type, but at least you seemed reasonable enough. What's the meaning of all this!?"

Calm, talkative. Smart, a crowd like this would be scared, and scared was a bad idea out here. I did my small part, projecting an Aura of calming assurance the onlookers, no doubt thinking it stemmed from their town's bar mistress. Asagi wasn't fooled, glowering at me like some creepy statue. As if I cared much.

"I'm so very glad ya've asked, ma'am! Someone who knows how to keep their wits in a crisis!" he observed as he straightened his coat. "It'll make things all the more easier!"

" _Humph!_ No need to keep shouting like a youngster. We're both too old for that nonsense," she retorted, crossing her arms in front of her, face impassive at his attempts at cordiality. "Now I'll ask you again, sir. Who are you, and why are you and these ruffians waving swords and such about? We're decent folk here. We don't want any trouble."

"Neither do I, Mistress, er... _Anbā,_ was it?" The boastful braggart reached inside his coat's chest pocket and pulled out a Scroll, a holographic screen displaying his picture, and, more importantly, his credentials, springing to life, to the dim amazement of those watching. The flashing symbol of Atlas was chief among them, unmistakable. "My name is Rouge, and my associates and I are... Well, ya might call us 'Constables' or 'Law Keepers' on mighty important business, trackin' a quarry most elusive and highly dangerous. Business authorized by order of the Ruling Councils of both Mistral and Atlas respective, no less."

Ice filled my veins, the sense of calm slipping...

Clever, including Mistral in that little introduction. Something told me he was acting just a hair outside his remit, if the Kingdom knew he was here at all, which I also doubted. Of course, how could a bunch of backwards yokels that had never even seen a soul from Mistral aside from the stray messenger or tax collector since before even the CCT fell know anything at all about that?

It gave him legitimacy, or a sense of it, calming nerves somewhat. Terrified squeaks turned into curious whispers...

"Business that has you spooking these fine people!?" Anbā put her hands on her hips, puffing her chest out, fox ears twitching as she stared about at the assembled group of goons, eyes lingering on the weapons they bore with them. "And all _this..._ Hardly seems necessary for one man, Bounty Hunter."

A Bounty Hunter. That's what he was, however his brow quirked at the title. This was bad... This was very, _very_ bad.

"An unfortunate happenstance, of course, but I assure you, Mistress, this is hardly any normal man." Welp, that about confirmed things for me. Shame I couldn't see a good moment to slip away. Not with the barmaid sticking to me like this, anyway. "But never fear! We stand with the blessin' of yer fine Mayor, here, after all." Rouge gestured to a portly man in fine silks, his beady eyes widening at being singled out. "A man who has so graciously allowed my men and I permission to perform our due diligence. After we've finished explainin' the exact nature of the situation, of course. Expediency was sorely needed."

"He did _what,_ now!?" The fox turned on the Mayor with a snarl that sent him flinching back a few paces, unable to meet her cold stare. "Without telling a soul!? Without telling _me!?_ You wool-headed old...!?"

"H-he told me he'd wait, Anbā! At least until the Festival was concluded!" Bleating and excuses. Amazing how one can predict the steps after seeing the same thing play out so many times before. "Once things were settled...!"

"Now, now, can't fault the man for followin' simple orders, even if things changed slightly." Rouge called, hoping to alleviate the tension, and utterly failing, only succeeding in drawing the bar mistresses' ire once again. "Couldn't rightly afford for word to get out and spook our target away, now could we?" He turned to the mayor, a hand stroking at the coarse hair adorning his chin. "And you. I did mention we were hopin' to speed this along, didn't I?" Mayor What's-His-Name tried to splutter something, but went ignored, almost brutally so with a clap of the ringleader's hands. "Now, onto business, then, so we can get outta your hair and let y'all enjoy the rest of your lovely evenin'!" A broad sweep to address the crowd, voice easily carrying even above the murmurs and chatter. "Thomas Braun, the Huntsman... Where's he at?"

Asagi's startled shriek sprang forth a moment before my own muttered curse, both actions thankfully lost in the outcry of whispers and shouts.

Anbā quieted them all with a raised hand, sticking the Bounty Hunter with a simmering look that would have made even a Beowolf think twice. "Thom? What about him?" She noted the shifting stances of the men surrounding the crowd, the revelation coming a moment later with the darkening of her expression. "This quarry of yours... It's Braun?"

"Ambrose."

"...'Scuse me?"

"Ambrose. That's our boy's name."

Rouge's Scroll flickered, showing what was clearly my partner's stoic profile glowering back at the crowd. The same picture that had flashed across thousands of screens across the Four Kingdoms during the Vytal Festival Tournament. It even had the little logo in the corner. Hardly recent, but more than enough to quiet the murmurs, and leave Anbā looking dumbstruck.

"His _real_ name. 'Joel Ambrose,' to be exact. Former student of the now-defunct Beacon Academy. Wanted by the Kingdoms of Remnant for multiple assorted instances of awkwardness." He dismissed the holo-image with a shrug, tossing the Scroll to the Fox Faunus. "Truth be told, I'm surprised he's been runnin' under the radar for even this long, even with hair dye. Man was quite a celebrity to most city-folk."

"If you haven't noticed, Mr. Rouge, we're hardly what you'd call ' _city-folk'_ out here in Akai-Hana. We don't know no... Who was it? 'Joel Ambrose?'" Anbā shot back, eyeing the picture no doubt still flashing on the Scroll. "The most advanced piece of technology we had was our CCT connection to Mistral. We wouldn't know about any of this."

I had to get away, get out of here... but I couldn't move. No, that would make me obvious to anyone with half a working brain cell. Just pretend to be as engrossed as the rest of the crowd, and maybe...

"But we do know people. Braun's a good man and a hard worker, who's only crime was to kill Grimm in order to protect this community."

Nice words. Bit naive, but it got people voicing approval. Joel had made more than a few friends in his time here. Hopefully that would be enough to...

" _...Really,_ now?"

Rouge frowned, a hand reaching inside his coat again, reappearing to the gasping horror and curses of all who saw it, including me, though I was strictly bound to the latter, heedless of Asagi's whimpering disbelief.

"I think this might change y'all's tune just a tad!" He hoisted his arm up, making certain that all could see the matte black molded shape of a face mask he waved loosely in hand.

A mask I knew quite well, having worn one just like it not too long ago. One bearing a distinct crimson handprint placed by Ambrose himself. Taken when he was arrested so long ago, no doubt kept by his jailers as evidence... or a trophy.

And now it was _here._

"Recent history might be a bit challengin', but I trust we all know what this is, and what it means?..."

They did... A village full of Faunus, traders, and gossips like this, _of course_ they knew about the Red Hand and what they stood for.

"No... No, that isn't...!" Vaguely, I sensed Asagi step away from me, shaking her head with her voice rising in octaves. Understandable. I doubt I would react any better to learning the man I fancied had been a member of a xenophobic group of terrorists famed for atrocities against her people and for starting a war against the known world. Tends to put a damper on things, I would think. "He can't be...! Thom was a...!?"

" _Quiet!_ " Another application of my Semblance lowered her voice, the effort subtle, and, by the widening of her eyes, was rather worrying for her. I could care less. She was going to get me caught. A liability, and a flirty animal, at that!... So why couldn't I just do the smart thing, and ditch her!? "I said shut up! Of course he's not...!"

Lying, and poorly, at that. And worse, she knew it, too. "Then where is he!? Why isn't he...!?" I let her bleat and hiss, more worried that her whispered demands might draw attention. I needn't have bothered, all eyes fixed on that mask Rouge juggled in his hands, or on Anbā herself. Her lined face was still muddled, impossible to gauge.

"...You're _certain_ of this?" she said softly, no trace of indignation or worry as the others expressed, almost a calm resignation. "'Cause I swear to the Gods themselves, if this is all some bandit trick...!"

"No trick at all, my fair Mistress. No trick at all, that I assure ya." A crimson flicker of energy pulsed along his arm, outlining the mask in stark relief, and setting a stir of gasps through the bumpkins. As if they'd never seen Aura before, despite Joel showing it off for all to see at every opportunity. "I have a gift, y'see. My Semblance - my ' _uniqueness,_ ' if y'all would - allows me to track a soul down 'cross the length and breadth of Remnant if needs be. So long as I have somethin' of theirs to 'snag a scent off of,' so to speak. Somethin' like this little nightmare here." He flipped the mask in his hands, allowing a grin to once more grace his bearded face, much to my mounting concern. "Useful skill, 'specially given the particulars of my trade."

 _'Wonderful. A tracker-type. Always a pain to deal with...'_

It's why you had to make sure to take them out first, or so Virgil had taught me. We'd used the same logic back in the Badlands so many months before, kidnapping Joel's teammate Reika Murasaki, until we'd realized the full scope of her abilities. Always useful... Right up until they weren't.

 _'Stupid arms...'_ My fingers twitched a fraction, the action feeling for the life of me numb and detached, sorely lacking in the power they'd once held.

"You'd have us take you at your word, on the basis of some fancy power you can hardly prove?" Bless the old fox, she actually looked like she was trying to deny the evidence in her face, throwing the man's Scroll back at him. "Why haven't you caught him yourself, then, if you have such a useful 'gift,' eh?"

Good question, actually. Really, a few weeks with her, and _still_ the old woman could surprise me.

"Shameful thing is, y'see, the scent tends to get a bit muddled the closer I get, though it's more than nuff to know he's still here in this village, sittin' nice and pretty." He looked about, picking out the most curious, and staring them full in the face. More than a few averted their gaze, while others looked on defiantly. Some appeared to be nodding, though it was difficult to tell. "A Trapper, right in y'all's midst... Imagine that, now."

For the Faunus in the village, that wasn't exactly a difficult prospect. Akai-Hana struck me as the sort of place one wound up when they were looking to avoid trouble. And a Trapper, even a former one, was anything but. And Rouge wasn't exactly advertising the "former" aspect either.

That was the sort of reputation Trappers had garnered. One we'd earned, more often than not. For good or ill... the panic the name evoked...

"A scary thing, ain't it? Young as he is, nice as he might seem, I promise you, the boy's a _killer!_ " Raising his voice, Rouge addressed the crowd, waving that mask about again as if to drive the point home. "We want him. Give us this murderer, and this service goes nice and easy-like for all involved. Help us help yous by gettin' this man off your streets! For the good of the Kingdoms - for the good of Akai-Hana - _help us!_ "

Laying it on thick with the begging, in my opinion... but that didn't mean it wasn't working.

Already, there were calls to at least find "Thomas Braun," and call him to account. Either to clear this mess up, or... well. A glance towards the rough-looking types patrolling the edges of the throng told me all I needed to know there. Joel wouldn't be stupid. So long as we all kept a low profile, chances were good we might be able to avoid...

"Asagi, there you are!"

My charge let out a shriek as a hand clapped down across her shoulder, startling the young woman, and breaking the tenuous hold my Semblance had maintained over her emotions, panic flowing back to the fore in force. Mido had appeared, stains from what looked to be a full plate of food and a fair bit of drink down the front of his green festival attire. The remains of a meal sorely interrupted by our guest, no doubt.

"Did you know!?" His rising pitch drew others, the crush of bodies receding until we stood in a loose circle, the truest center of attention. "Did you or the Mistress know anything 'bout this!?"

"M-Mido!? I... I-I didn't...!?" Poor girl. She was breaking. Easy enough to see the signs.

"Nah, nah, of course you wouldn't... Not unless he threatened ya both." The drunk nodded as though it were obvious, despite stuttering protests to the contrary. "Listen, it's alright! No one'd blame ya. I mean, he had us all fooled, but you saw him last, right? You came here with him, right? Where is he?"

"Yes... Y-yes I did, b-but I don't know...!"

"Leave her be, Mido! She ain't involved in any of this!" Anbā tried to move to her ward's aide, only to find the way blocked by her once loyal neighbors. "What're you all doing!? Let me through, or you'll all regret it, you wool-headed...!"

"C'mon, Asagi, help us out here! Where is he?" He moved forward suddenly, reaching for her shoulders as though that would steady her. The action only served to startle the young woman further, only to wind up startled himself when he found himself stumbling back, arms waving for balance, emotions suddenly warning him away from the young woman standing in his path. "H-how did...!?"

" _Back off!_ " I snarled narrowing my eyes his way, the young man flinching away as though physically struck. "That's right! Hands to yourself!"

It was a good distraction, keeping him at bay like this, concentrating through the headache and strain the effort placed on me, distracting me from the colossal screw-up I'd just made by announcing my presence.

A foolish move. One a smart Elizabeth Briar would've used to affect some elaborate escape or misdirection. But no, here I was again, defending some Animal girl I didn't even much care for... _Why?_

 _'Joel's damning influence, no doubt.'_

"Look people, y'all have to remain focused on the objective here!" Rouge pleaded with the crowd, sensing the frenzy overtaking them.

No doubt he'd been expecting a bit of rabble rousing, but from the looks of things, he'd underestimated the sort of response that mask was going to evoke, especially now I was focusing my attention strictly on one rather than all.

He'd have a mob, soon, if not already. Subtle gestures sent his people forward, using their bulk and presence to attempt to shepherd the assorted farmers, merchants, and such back into something resembling calm.

With little effect, of course. That'd just be _too_ easy. And we weren't that lucky.

"Hey, maybe _she_ knows!" Blinking, I rounded just in time to see the spurned poet from earlier striding from the crowd, finger gesticulating in my face wildly. "She's with him, ain't she? She's gotta know something!"

 _'Oh, you've got to be **kidding me!** ' _A break. Was that so much to ask for!? Sometimes, I swore that if the Gods truly existed, they must be some real twisted bastards at times.

"Now, boy, don't go pointin' fingers! That ain't the sorta help we need...!" Roscoe blanched, irritated but unable to stem the mounting hysterics sweeping people up in its wake. " _Godsdammit!_ " He at least knew better than to draw his gun at this point, lest the anger turn swiftly to panic.

"Sienna's been with him from the start! Left her in the Trapper's company mere minutes before! If anyone knows of the murderer's hiding...!?"

He paused in his little diatribe, brow twitching at the sound of chiming laughter ringing through the space above the wind, and easily penetrating the wall of tense silence that had fallen over the festival, even its unintended guests.

An innocent sort of laughter spilling forth from a face that was anything but, eyes piercing the man like daggers of sheer contempt.

A look perfected by years travelling and studying under Fortuna Marigold. The one that could set bandit lords cowering, and leave Huntsmen sweating, or so I'd witnessed. Mine was half that of my Master's, but it at least had enough bite to leave marks.

" _Woooow!..._ Huntsman sends you scurrying with your tail literally between your legs, and you immediately turn on him first chance, just like that, huh? Poor form, seeing as you ought to be kissing the ground he walks on, poetaster."

Marigold had taught me that sordid little insult over a few cups. No idea at all where it originated from or what it meant, but it at least sounded properly belittling. Better yet, it was pretty obvious to the intended party after a few bewildered heartbeats. Always that same idiotic look on their face when they tried to work it out.

"Why you...!?" His face finally flushed angrily at the words, but I just couldn't help myself by this point. Weeks of playacting the demure, injured shut in, the carousing invalid, and a half dozen other masks of necessity all melting away in the face of the truth.

"All is well when he's cooked for you at least once or twice, or risked himself to save your glorified, swamp dump of a hamlet from having to worry about the things that go bump in the night." Shifting my head about, I took a page from the glorified bandit's book, catching stares, and holding them till they broke. "And I'm addressing _everyone,_ if that's not totally obvious by now! Can't see why he bothered!"

It was a stupid argument, and I knew it. Of course they'd be scared. "Officials" from the Kingdoms had come by, and revealed the town's protector as anything but.

It made sense, but it didn't keep me from feeling just the smallest bit indignant at just how easily they'd turned on a man who had worked himself near to fainting every night for them. Who'd faced down monsters so they could sleep better, all while stumbling into our shared room when he thought I was asleep, covered in bruises and cuts that would be gone or subtly treated the next morning.

" _Pathetic!_ Bunch of cowards, the whole lot of...!"

Distract them, let Joel get away. Worst comes to worse, I... What? Get arrested? Run out of town? I'd been in worse situations. This was a whole lot of noth...!?

" _Sienna!_ " Asagi's warning came far too late, the girl struggling against a pair of stern-faced Bounty Hunters who had worked their way through the mess to investigate the commotion.

Not that I needed it to see the hand racing towards my face. So stupid, the stinging impact of it rang out across my cheek and through the air, stealing my breath away in an " _Oh"_ of surprise. My eyes were wide, though that was more shock at having been hit than the pain itself, not quite believing it.

Forgetting the brands on reflex, my arms instinctively had moved to block the blow, or tried to, anyway, only to find the limbs unresponsive, and flopping like wet noodles.

 _'Sacrifices for power...'_ Master had said, a coal of bitter anger and hurt pride smoldering to life. I hadn't felt this way since...

The whole crowd had fallen silent with the blow, though each soul in the crowd wore an expression all their own. Some looked frightened, others vindictive. Anbā was utterly furious now, while Rouge looked little better. My poet friend, for all his bluster, actually had the nerve to look like he regretted it.

 _'Nobody...'_

"L-look, don't make this any harder than it needs... _gAaGh!?"_

The Faunus pitiful attempt at a threat was broken succinctly along with his nose, and what felt like most of his teeth. My forehead crunched against cartilage and bone in a wet, warm spray that coated my snarling face, and probably ruined pretty robes Asagi had gotten for me.

 _' **Nobody** makes me feel like this...!'_

Our little poetaster wasn't allowed the time to register his agony through the shock, the audience struck mute by the violent display, the air silent but for the subtle _*Krik-crack*_ of unlimbering joints and tensing muscle groups playing out just beyond the realm of hearing.

 ** _'NOBODY!'_**

My leg struck out like lighting, tearing through even the thick, silken fabric of the festival wear, and planting itself squarely in the poet's chest. Ribs cracked and gave, throwing him backward through a swiftly parting tide of now-thoroughly alarmed villagers to land in a heap across a nearby bench, almost cracking the connected table in half...

" _Asshole!_ "

I felt a huff of pride as I spat out the words, along with a fair bit of coppery mess. At least until I felt the nagging childish sense of trepidation at so many eyes on me. Azeri and Mido were chief among them, the drunk actually hiding behind the wide-eyed barmaid.

Really, I must've been quite a sight...

"What? Was that too hard for you?"

Things sort of went to hell in a hand basket after that... in the shape of two of Rouge's bastards rushing from the stunned crowd, looking to tackle me.

At least with the crowd around, they weren't shooting. That was good. For what that was worth...

The first left the ground and went down heaving and clutching low after a blow that made every male in the vicinity wince in sympathy, his will to fight crushed along with it. The second managed a punch that I sidestepped, delivering a harsh kick to the back of her knees before driving my assailant face-first into the dance floor decking.

People were shouting now, Rouge chief among them, while more of his people closed in to surround me. But I didn't care.

My stage fright was overcome with sheer exultation. I felt so _alive..._

After weeks of sitting on my ass with nothing better to do than wallow about in bed, study, or attempt to entertain the mind-numbing interests of bumpkins, I was winning. I was taking _action._ I _WAS..._ suddenly feeling very, _very_ tired...

The brands were numb now, the air about them steaming and warping even through the bandages, which, at the fingertips, had formed a thin patina of ice I noticed dimly...

Muscles cried out and cramped after motions that only weeks before would've been seen through almost as an afterthought, my breath coming in ragged, misty gasps, the tingling sensation along my arms and back growing ever more prominent by the second.

Two down, a good half dozen more looking to pick up where they'd left off. I might have even felt embarrassed if the sheer act of standing alone wasn't drawing most of my energy.

And after a few stumbling kicks at the first ones to reach me - and "kick" was being overly generous with that display - as well as the sharp, stabbing pain and sudden disorientation of a stun baton being driven home across my back, I couldn't even do that much.

" _MORONS, HOLD OFF! SHE'S DOWN!_ "

They weren't listening, too scared or too caught up to listen to his orders. Typical...

Breathing became impossible as every muscle spasmed, pitching me forward on my knees, arms unable to bear my weight... That I could handle. The blunt heel of a boot slamming home into my undefended side so hard, I coughed a piteous wheeze and rolled onto my side... That I could handle.

Pain was mental, anyway. I'd been taught to ignore it. To put it away in a box for later reference.

Other desires weren't so easy to tap down on.

Every instinct screamed for me to draw upon my Aura. To take the power my soul possessed, and bring it to bear in all its frightening potential.

I wasn't ready. I didn't really understand how I knew it, but I did. I could sense the Infusion Brands Master had scored into my flesh pulsing like a palpable part of me, still developing, infantile... reacting and changing, ready to birth something glorious and indescribable.

But not yet. It wasn't time. Soon, though... But not soon enough to save me, however...

Through the indistinct grunting of the hulking goon hunched over me - the same asshole who'd stunned me and now rearing back for another go - Rouge's shouts for his people to hold their blows... begging pleas to stop from Asagi, of all people, as Mido dragged her away from the scene, and her irate Mistress slapped a bandit who'd thought to interpose... I did take some comfort in their distraction; their focus on me.

If Joel was smart, he'd stay hidden, where Rouge's self-admitted fallacy in his Semblance wouldn't be able to pinpoint him.

Anyone with half a brain would calmly wait for the just the right moment to strike or get away, ignoring me and focusing on the mission. Rouge obviously didn't want me dead, and despite his men's enthusiasm, I expected I'd walk away from this battered but intact. I'd be taken prisoner... Hardly the first time, though those had never been unintentional, of course.

There was always a plan; a contingency. It wasn't sacrifice. It was logic, and I couldn't fault Joel for leaving me.

I slowed him down. He'd been chomping at the bit to go off searching for any lead in regards to those wayward teammates of his, and Marigold had punished him for it. Guilting him into playing bodyguard in the middle of nowhere.

This was his perfect chance... And that kick should've landed by now, shouldn't it?

Blinking away the warm wetness from my vision, I glanced up just in time to see the goon's weapon caught in a firm grasp before being shoved roughly away from me...

 _'No, that's not all...'_ I realized with a start.

In his place stood Joel, face set as the first of the bandits began to overcome their surprise, no doubt inured to it after my little display.

" _Thom!?_ " Asagi cried out, sounding at once distressed and relieved all at once. "Thom, it's a trap!" Huh, thanks for stating the obvious.

The one he'd pushed back bellowed out a battle cry and charged, despite a booming warning from his boss, weapon alight with crackling electricity, and his blood too hot to listen beyond a quirk of a scarred eyebrow that rose along with its twin as his intended target didn't just take the blow, he caught it with only an annoyed growl to indicate he felt anything at all.

"That tickles."

A moment's pressure and a burst of sparks saw the device's Dust core detonating in a brilliant *POP.* The same sound that came from the man's elbow when Ambrose wrenched his arm up and to the side roughly.

My partner wasn't exactly gentle putting him down either, tossing him in one smooth motion to crash into a pair looking to go for their weapons. The former Trapper stared them down, giving them no small amount of pause now that their target was upon them.

So showy, even without that ridiculous jacket, though its lack did little to lessen the overall impact. If anything, it had hidden the full scope underneath the stylized glamour.

Ambrose had always been on the leaner side, but weeks of hard labor, multiple generous meals, and more Grimm than he could hunt, that designation now only fit in the loosest sense. Dark sleeves peeled back to reveal pale, scarred skin grown thick with corded muscle, rippling with ambient cerulean energy, hair loose about his face, and practically crackling with sparks. Not to mention the fact he stood easily half a head taller than the largest of them, and the pressure his Aura exuded only widened that gap.

And then there was that damned flair of his for the dramatic... Always appearing at the last and best moment so perfectly choreographed, I might have suspected he'd planned it that way if I didn't know the young man so well.

Of course, I'd also thought he'd try and cut his losses... But that wasn't Joel, and a part of me had known that all along. Still...

" _Idiot!_ " I whispered between halting breaths, accepting the moron in question's help in getting back to my feet. His hands gentle as they eased me upright, his presence more comforting than I cared to admit, especially to myself. "You stupid, rotten idiot!"

"Hmph. You're welcome." So typical, so predictable, the comeback delivered with the usual snark... But this was different. _Joel_ was different. "Follow my lead, and wait for the signal."

"Signal?"

The levity was gone. The easy confidence the Huntsman usually bore with him into the fray was replaced by something else. Something protective that at once made me feel elated and terrified. Something entirely focused on those surrounding us now, many exchanging furtive glances, as though trying to decide what to do.

" _What's the meaning of all this!?_ " he called out, drawing his baton slowly in one hand, even as the Bounty Hunters - glorified bandits that they were - brought their weapons up with a clatter.

Joel remained calm, for what it was worth, the look of a calculated plan being worked in his eyes, if a desperate one. Good. Knowing Ambrose, his first impulse likely would've made hell in a hand basket look like a bloody picnic with daffodils...

* * *

 _ **-Roscoe Rouge-**_

 _'...and peaches. Grimmspawn it, this whole damned mess is gettin' completely outta hand!'_

This job was supposed to be quick and painless. Overwhelming numbers once the town was on our side, grab the stupid Trapper, and put him in chains. Maybe even stay for drinks and a bit a fun before heading off into the morning sun...

 _'Fat chance of any of that happenin' now...'_ My men had jumped the gun. Almost literally, I expect. Darned fools were supposed to calm the situation, not stun a girl, collaborator or no.

Most of our "helpful" civilians were fleeing either to their homes, or to watch the mayhem unfold from a reasonable distance. All except for poor little Asagi and that insufferable Anbā woman. The former Faunus was gazing helplessly from her friend's arms at the giant, the latter looking ready to set me aflame with her mind if she could, barely held at bay by the Mayor and a pair of my men, though they weren't looking too solid.

Now the Trapper was here, out in the open. Surrounded, cornered, but apparently far from helpless, as the man groaning in a heap of his fellows had shown in spades.

Really? And after I'd briefed him about electricity and everything, too... One of the newbies, I reckoned.

 _'Huh, bigger up close... Didn't quite pick up on that before.'_

Of course, it didn't help that Ironwood hadn't mentioned he'd have company, especially not the sort of company that could take down two roughnecks single handed. Hardened souls who'd spent the majority of their adult lives - most even longer than that - surviving and, moreover, thriving in one of the most hostile environments on Remnant... And she'd taken them out with her bare feet, despite existing injuries.

That wasn't normal... Though, of course, neither was a young kid barely of an age with my daughter catching a full burst from a Stunner, and seeing the man behind it be the one sent flying.

Fancy Semblance or no, those things were rated to put down at least a grown Beowolf at full charge, and the bastard had barely even blinked. The General had _promised...!_ No. No, it was clear we couldn't trust James Ironwood's take on the situation at face value much, or the bounty's so-called limits. Keep out of range, expect the unexpected, and let the Atlas gear earn its weight.

"Ain't nothin' to worry ourselves 'bout..." I reassured myself, working out the wrinkles in my coat collar with a rough tug, hand on the handle of my backup piece.

Joel Ambrose might be a Trapper, but what exactly was a Trapper but some glorified Kid-Hunter chock full of ego and angst? I'd caught my share of Huntsmen and Huntresses before. Tough, but not impossible. Wrangling one barely old enough to start shaving was gonna be child's play.

One just had to remember that this particular prey was cunning, dangerous, and above all...

" _What's the meaning of all this!?_ "

 _'...Playing dumb? **Seriously!?** '_

I blinked at the declaration, and the sight of Ambrose sweeping an open arm out in one of those all-encompassing motions, like some Atlas speaker trying to work a crowd. The other hand, I noticed, hovered near the silver cylinder hanging off his belt. Some kind of weapon, no doubt.

 _'Well, ain't this a surprise...'_ We had been told his other one had been confirmed destroyed after the whole Beacon fiasco. Something to keep an eye on, especially with an absolute beauty of a jewel set into the casing. _'That'll sell nice, indeed, seein' as its erstwhile owner ain't gonna have no further need of it after this.'_

"I, uh... I beg yer pardon, Ambrose?"

" _...Excuse me?_ " Have to admit the kid wasn't bad, presenting a rather convincing effort at incomprehension. Better than most I'd seen. "My name is...!"

" _Joel Ambrose!_ As of now, you can drop that whole ' _Thomas Braun_ ' act!" I called back unimpressed, drawing my gun slowly, and tapping the face of the mask with a hearty beat. "Ironwood called you a smart one, but seein' this... Ya oughta've run when ya had the chance!"

Yeah, definitely playing an act up for the crowd, as if his face weren't obvious from the wanted poster, even with the longer hair and a cheap dye job. Now that I looked closer, I could actually see him trembling, his body tensed up to the breaking point, brow twitching, and jaw tensed, evidently ready to snap into action at the first chance.

Fat chance of that happening. Not with every gun in the square only meters away and at the ready. The boy was an impossible target _not_ to hit.

"'Course, if you were smart, ya wouldn't have been caught and sent to Beacon in the first place!... Ah, wait! Ya turned yerself in, right?"

Right there. A tension in the eyes. A suppressed snarl that no amount of whispering between himself and the girl behind him was gonna fix. Everyone had a tell; a giveaway. And it seems Ambrose had more than a few weak points to jab.

"How 'bout it? We make this whole bit of unpleasantness easy and go for a repeat, you comin' with us all peaceful-like. Surrender, and we'll even consider leavin' yer friend to go her own merry way... Y'know what, strike that! I _guarantee it._ No one..." I motioned to Miss Mason, or whatever he name was, apologetically. "No one _else_ has to get hurt today. That's not our intention."

Ambrose appeared shocked by the offer, but otherwise held his ground, running the odds in his head. That was behavior I could respect. Too many firebrands these days, both back home and worldwide. Here's hoping my gamble paid off, and the boy would do what he had to in order to keep the girl safe. He seemed the type.

Besides, it would keep my men and - more importantly - my hide intact. Bonus.

Not to mention it would save us the precious supplies and weeks of effort that would entail dragging a wounded, unwilling girl through the wilderness. A girl we most likely wouldn't be getting paid for, regardless. No pay, no way.

Unfortunately that last little concession had started more than a bit of discontented grumbling among my own people, namely those picking themselves up from the ground around said girl's feet. No doubt they were feeling a little deprived, what with their pride kicked out of them, some working the nerve up to argue. I'd seen it before. Of course, that didn't stop them from tensing as my boot heel smacked hard to the tabletop, and shattered a ceramic clay plate and the wooden tray beneath it, spraying not a few with bits of shrapnel, rice, and veggie stew.

That got the message across, shutting even the more mutinous lads up right quick. Important, seeing as I noticed the girl's eyes drifting between them, no doubt picking up on the cracks, and already seeking an angle. Not just a fighter, then. Yeah... _definitely_ don't want her coming along for the ride back to Atlas.

"...So then, Mr... Rogue, was it? _Rouge?_ I surrender, and we leave the town and Li... _Sienna,_ in peace?" Our target glanced around after taking a knee to the thigh from his mate, clenching the hand not lingering at his weapon into a tight fist. Was he really so nervous or scared? I couldn't shake the feeling something was afoot, a nagging taste on the tip of my tongue. "You'd promise this? Swear to it?"

"Thieves Honor, friend. I promise ya." I made a little show of crossing my heart, some of my boys laughing among themselves until a tap of my foot turned them back to task. "It's a damn fine offer, if I do say so myself! Not likely to find much better. 'Specially now that yer cover's blown, 'cause they don't seem to keen on havin' you 'round here anymore." I tipped my head towards the milling crowd in the distance, staring back with undisguised apprehension, much of it aimed at us understandably. Far more of it at the Trapper who'd been lying to them.

"That's not...! Let me go! _LET ME GO!_ " Asagi wailed, shoving her elbows into the stomach of the man holding her. Mido, I think his name was, having to double up just to keep her from bolting into the line of fire.

"Girl, stay out of this!" The old fox shot her a glare from over the shoulders of the men keeping her at bay, not that her protege listened. Kids never did... "You'll make it worse! You don't...!?"

"No, _you_ don't understand! Thom's a good person! They've got the wrong man!"

"Sorry, child. Not likely. You saw the picture, the Semblance, the mask!" I held up the offending piece of evidence, heedless of the way it made her face pale and her legs quiver. "And yer seein' him right now! Shiverin' like that, 'cause he knows we've got him dead to rights. Don't we, Ambrose!?"

I couldn't quite meet her accusing glare, seeing too much of Cherry in it. She'd had the same look in her eye when I'd forbidden her from signing up when the Atlesians had come recruiting.

"Against all odds, this scumbag got a chance to answer for what he's done, and y'know what he did? He _ran!_ Fled all the way out here after Beacon fell! Deceivin' fine men and women, twistin' their goodwill to his ends! And now, he's gonna be locked up for a long, _long_ time if General Ironwood has his way!"

"Locked... _Locked up?_ " Ambrose sounded out the words like they left a bad aftertaste, and he needed to be rid of them, sparing a lingering glance at Asagi. "S-sorry to disappoint you, Rouge, but that... That's _not_ happening."

"Oh, that so?" Leaning forward, I noticed just how much the Trapper was shivering in place, the pained glint in those blues of his. Teeth chattering manically. "And I s'pose ya think yer... Hmm? What's the matter with...!?"

And then I drew in a breath, a tiny halting thing. In that moment, I tasted the faintest tang of charged air, the scent of a storm on the horizon. The puzzle pieces snapped into place before I could open my mouth in warning.

Joel's fist opened, revealing the tempest building to a breaking point in his palm in torrents of cerulean energy that pulsed up his arm, and underneath the sleeves to the rest of him. The bastard was live in a bad way. For us, at least.

 _'How we'd miss it!? I couldn't quite...!?'_

"You!? _You dirty little...!_ "

" _NOW!_ "

Too late, my gun was unable to rise in time before a snap of his fingers released the Auratic charge the boy had been holding within. A blinding flash of crackling energy exploded outward in an expanding wave that popped Dust lanterns, and set my people cursing the sudden onset of static cling.

For his part, Ambrose sagged forward, off balanced for an instant in covering Miss Mason as she returned the favor in kind.

A fancy distraction, but it hadn't seemed to do anything more than that. The steadier of my lot brought their fancy new rifles to bear, ready to tear this Trapper and his girlfriend to pieces...

Only... nothing happened. And then came the noise...

"Atlesian technologies... _Ah!_ R-really something, aren't they? Cutting edge stuff, especially their firearms," Joel explained with an edge of strained mirth. The sight of my men's rifles locking up no doubt quite amusing, as was the sight of us reeling back, pawing at our ears. "Auto-assisted loading, electronic safeties and targeting. All real good to have in a fight... Just real bad when that fight's with _me._ "

He was gloating, not that I heard. The high-pitched keening of static stole that particular sense at the moment.

"Radios, too? Shame. Ironwood really dropped the ball this time!" His hand snatched up the cylinder at his belt, gears already screeching to life through the disorientation, a flash of a silvery wire flickering around the pair. "Can't blame him, though. Never really showed off this little trick. _Overload!_ "

 _'Over-what, now!?'_ My mind lurched numbly, barely registering both Trappers leaping into sudden violent motion.

"Hurts holding a charge for that long, but the results?..." A whip crack split the air like thunder again and again, each time followed swiftly by the heavy clatter of a rifle hitting the wooden deck. " _...Priceless,_ every time!"

His words were punctuated every so often by yelps from those facing his companion, the girl's legs lashing out viper quick, flooring ruffians heads taller and half again as broad. Asagi finally managed to free herself when that Mido man was smacked full in the face by one of the fallen rifles Mason kicked their way.

An embarrassment. One I meant to correct with a warning shot. Once I finally took aim with my...!

H-hang on! My gun was gone, the fingers that had held it sporting fresh bruises, even through my Aura. When had that happened!?

The whole world seemed to freeze in that instant, Miss Mason, Asagi, and my people all stopping thick in place to gawk at Ambrose standing with a silver knife in one hand, and his sparking whip in the other, poised to take out a now-blatantly unarmed, if charmingly handsome Roscoe Rouge.

No way I'd be able to draw out my shotgun in time, not before that knife of his found its way to my heart. Having seen the recordings of just what the Trapper could do with those toothpicks of his, I didn't stand a chance.

"Yer... Yer really somethin' else, Ambrose... But one rogue always knows another." I did my best to seem calm, drawing on years of similar experiences back home in the Badlands. If I could distract him for long enough, seek some kind of opening... "Lookin' to prove my point, then? Show these good people here exactly what kinda man you...!?"

Silver streaked through the air before my eyes, the mask I'd barely realized I'd been clutching flying from my hand and tossed into the snow, the knife buried to the hilt in between the eye slots.

A perfect kill shot, especially once the ambient static energy tore the ceramic to shreds, sitting in a puddle of acrid burning material and glossy slush.

Ambrose just stood there, traceries of lightning flickering between his fingertips until the mask was thoroughly destroyed, finally lowering his hand when the visage was little more than charred ashes in the wind. That fancy whip of his retracted back into a single spiked cylinder, that jewel pulsing in the moonlight.

Only then did he speak, his voice calm and level, far more so than I might've expected, bearing with it a sort of resigned weight and air of finality, as though he'd explained this before, and was thoroughly miffed he had to do so again. "...Point proven?" Ambrose spat bitterly, marching towards me calmly as he pleased, utterly ignoring the warning looks his pretty friend and Asagi were shooting him with. Heedless of the sword-wielding roughnecks who quailed at his approach, stepping up easily onto the table to join me on my impromptu stage.

Even then, his attention seemed divided, staring down at that damned puddle, face as unreadable as that mask had been, though thankfully far less menacing, if only just.

"...You know, I should thank you, Rouge. That was actually pretty therapeutic."

"I-I... Uh, yer welcome?" I tried to squeak out the words, stumblin' back a few hasty steps, almost trippin' over myself in my bid to build even a tiny speck of distance. "Why? Why aren'tcha...!?"

Ripping me and my men to shreds, sparking us down in a blaze of glory, tearing heads off and eating them like in the stories? Somehow, I thought neither of those options would go over very well. Better to let it rest...

 _'By the gods, how did I not realize the **size** of him...?'_

The "boy" was almost a full head taller than me, and seemingly larger beyond the physical, his presence overshadowing my own succinctly. He'd seemed easier to deal with from a distance. A quick pull of a trigger enough to deal with if I could only get off the shot. Now... Now I wasn't so sure. He seemed a lot more... solid, immovable, yet possessive of this strange grace that put my hackles on end.

 _'Really should've charged Ironwood more when I had the chance...'_

"You had a job to do. I can't fault the reason behind it. Besides, I've already gotten my payback. Count that as even."

He cocked his head back towards the man he'd put down, the one who'd stunned his friend. The only one he'd actually touched beyond a few bruised fingers and shoddy secondhand rifles.

 _' **Definitely** should've charged more...'_

"As for your orders - Ironwood's orders - however much he's promised you for taking me in, none of that matters... You and your people's work is done here."

"Really? Ironwood doesn't matter?" I chuckled weakly, finding the face I usually wore for this sort of thing. "Bit showy, ain'tcha? Makin' demands of us like a proper boss."

"Was told 'showy' worked with you Badlanders. That, and having the stronger nerve. You're a rough crowd." A shit-eating grin flashed through my beard at the comment. One that bared my teeth, which, thankfully, weren't chattering at the amount of static tickling the air just being near the lad. "Better to make things clear and simple, don't you think? So there's no confusion."

"No, there ain't... Least not for these people." I gestured towards the crowd watching us now. "This lot? They've turned on ya. You realize that, don'tcha?"

His eyes furrowed, as if unimpressed. "And that changes anything?"

"'Course it...! N-now hold on there just a...!"

Really shouldn't have even bothered saying another word. Wasn't like the boy was even paying attention to me anymore, his back turned to regard Anbā and Asagi both. A perfect chance to strike, but I stayed my hand, knowing a classic bait when I saw one.

If I moved, Ambrose would make me regret it. I'd been given what most in my line of work would consider a "pass." Best not to waste it, or blow it all on one long shot act of desperation. Not against a kid this crazy.

I was a raider after all, not some gambler.

 _'Best to leave that particular vice to Bill Carson and his ilk...'_

"Miss Anbā, Asagi... I... No. I promised her I'd stop begging forgiveness for the past." He shook his head and clapped a fist to his chest, cocking a head towards me, but otherwise ignorant as I leapt off the table to rejoin my people. Most were glaring openly, or looking ready to bolt. Fight or flight... "...Everything this man has said, the things he says I've done... It's all true. And as much as I wish I could, I can't take them back... Judge me as you will. That's your right."

Kid had stones, I'd give him that. Anyone that could stand tall under a glare like the one the Old Fox was laying him earned at least that.

"I can only really apologize for the deception, and the trouble it's brought upon you and your neighbors." I lowered the sword arm of one of the younger roughnecks, shaking my head soberly, and nodding to Ambrose's girl, her green eyes glaring daggers our way, evidence of what she herself could manage all too apparent. "Li... Sienna and I... We only ever sought to rest here before continuing on, though I hope I was able to help in some small way to make up for it. Neither of us intended any harm... All we ask is that we're allowed to leave in peace."

A slight subtle hiss of electricity rippled its way up my spine, making me wince and signaling my return to his notice. One I bore up under well enough, realizing the silent acknowledgement for what it was.

We'd be allowed to leave in peace, and so does he. Give him a day or so, and then it's fair game. Odd, but I respected the initiative. The desire to not involve innocents. It was completely at odds with Ironwood's briefing of him.

It certainly had the young snake's face reddening, throwing her scales into deeper contrast as she played with her hair.

"Thom... I don't... I think it's far..."

"Far too late for that, boy," Anbā cut in abruptly, her voice soft as steel, and three times as blunt. "Apologies aren't going to matter much. Not now."

Somthing about the way she spoke...

"...I understand. I don't hold it against...!?" Ambrose tried to say, face showing the barest flicker of pain before it was wiped away by a single long horn blast. A resounding note that radiated outward from the highest tower in the village. Both the Huntsman and his friend winced and clutched for their ears, the two Faunus similarly affected. "T-that horn... The tower! But that means...!"

"No, you _don't_ understand me, Braun, Ambrose, whatever your name is," the Bar Mistress growled, leveling a glare that made hardened bandits look at their feet and mumble an apology, most hardly aware of the action. "I tried to warn you fools, but you just _had_ to grandstand! Make a big show of it! There's too much fear - so much shock and confusion - it's ringing out like a dinner bell for leagues around!"

She threw her arms wide, a move that would've thrown her ward to the ground had she not ducked. A calloused hand motioning to the spectators now staring at the tower with undisguised terror. A slight vibration in my pocket had me bringing out a Scroll, the message written across the holographic screen enough to render my blood to ice.

"People here can't help themselves, not with this much excitement! The balance is all wrong!"

"What are you...!?"

The Trapper's words died in his throat with a low groan, the unasked question receiving its own terrifying answer as the forests beyond the walls echoed with the cacophony of ravenous monsters. A whole hordes-worth, if a lifetime spent listening to the creatures dwelling in the night beyond the light of the campfire was anything to reckon' by.

It seemed tonight was a night for unexpected surprises... And yes, I _definitely_ should've charged that bastard Ironwood hazard pay...

* * *

-END

* * *

 _ **A/N: Hey all, works been crazy and so has Summer shenanigans. BBQ competitions with Dad, property talks with the whole family, lots of fun or at least the first is (Even if I am a glorified pair of hands)**_

 _ **Know the cliffhanger endings hurt and I appreciate you all for sticking with this story. Arc will be ending soon, within 1 or 2 chapters, expect fights and other craziness. Wishing y'all the best till next time. -Mojo**_

* * *

 **(Next Chapter: Akai-Hana burns, Hunters stand.)**


	20. Chapter 20

_**Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_

* * *

THE DEFENSE OF AKAI-HANA

* * *

 ** _-Roscoe Rouge-_**

"Lien goes to the Madame, I'm afraid." Every eye in the plaza turned to me questioningly, my Scroll the only proper response I could give. "Word in from my people waitin' a few clicks out. Grimm are gatherin' up. Got the makin's of a horde, if the numbers keep growin'. Alphas are present, leadin' the charge."

"Wait, you've got scouts outside the walls!?" Sienna Mason growled, the first words above a whisper I'd heard her speak since Ambrose had leapt onto the scene.

"A few placed along the main roadways, yeah. Just in case you or yer boyfriend decided to skedaddle 'fore we moved in. Happens pretty often." Ignoring her spluttering denials, I regarded Anbā and Ambrose, who the only pair not looking ready to faint on the spot, even counting my people. "What's important is the direction the beasties are headin'. Best they can tell..."

"The Grimm are heading this way!?" Asagi cried out, going pale as a corpse, clapping her hands to her mouth, legs shaking and looking ready to topple any second. Understandable. Her parents had been lost to the Grimm, I recalled. The thought of them swarminh her home... "Oh... Oh gods, they'll wipe out the whole village! We can't handle a horde, we can't...!"

A loud * _SMACK*_ split the air, leaving the Snake Faunus blinking and holding her reddened cheek. The old fox lowering her hand and moved it to the girl's shoulder. I wasn't meant to be a reassuring gesture, but its focus was to steady.

"Calm yourself, Azeri! More panic's just gonna make the situation worse." It took a moment, but Asagi nodded her head rapidly, rearranging herself into something resembling order. Remarkable, after the night she'd had. "That's my girl! Now, you know what to do, don't you?" Another nod of affirmation, and soon enough, the Faunus was sprinting as fast as she could, dragging Sienna squirming and cursing with her. Girl really had quite a mouth on her.

"You're moving the ones that can't fight to a safe place, then? The _Fox?_ " Ambrose asked, earning a weary nod from the older woman, her face finally showing its age in a whole new way, lines carving deep furrows in her flesh.

She was hiding it well, but she was worried; scared. And why shouldn't she be? A proper horde could easily threaten settlements larger and better defended than this. It was akin to a death nail for her whole livelihood.

"...Alright, that's good. We'll need a place to bring in the wounded, maybe clean out some of these buildings. And supplies, too. Water and bandages, anything that might be used as a weapon. And people to wield them..."

On and on the boy went, speaking rapid fire, more to himself than to the woman before him. I could almost see the gears turning in his head, which, by itself, was on a near-constant swivel. Looking between the various buildings, the wall surrounding the village, the distant branches of barren trees barely cresting the lip of the bulwark beyond.

"...Hold the wall. We'll need rifles, pitchforks, too! Anything that can be made into a weapon! I remember seeing some...!"

He was planning a defense, or going through the motions at least. And from the sounds of it, he didn't intend on doing it alone, but that made little sense.

Most Huntsmen I'd seen were content to fight alone against impossible odds if it meant protecting folk. I'd never heard one consider arming civvies before, let alone a bunch of farmers and swamp fishers.

It was madness. Then I recalled the lad hailed from the Frontier, Bastion, of all places. The Silver City supposedly surrounded by great towering walls that few outsiders had ever seen the inside of, and no Grimm could threaten. Guess if anyone would know how to hold a damned wall...

But this wasn't Bastion.

"How's our exit lookin'?" I pulled aside one of my longer-running crew, a gap-toothed reliable bastard who'd been with me in the good ol' days back home before Atlas collared us. A bit shaken up, with a splinter in his face from where that Mason girl had stomped him, but steady on his feet. "Things're 'bout to get dicey here."

"Boss, Rovers can be saddled up and ready to clear out on your say so. Few minutes tops, if...!"

A frantic-eyed woman ran up to the both of us, wide-eyed, with her hands covered in grease and Dust, which was a dangerous and disheartening mix. Her words weren't much better.

" _WHAT!?_ Whaddya mean the Buggies are shot!? Fix 'em up! What am I payin' ya for!?"

"I took a look, Boss! I swear!" The others were looking uneasy now at the revelation of our escape quickly being snuffed. And all the while, I could feel the town's eyes watching us, even with Ambrose now calling out orders, with the Madame's support for those leery of being ordered about by the Trapper. She got them moving right eager enough. "Fuel lines cut, fused wiring, some Dust cores outright missin'! It's _sabotage!_ "

"Sabotage!? You mean someone went messin' 'round with our rides!?"

I was incensed, and more than a little panicked. If we couldn't drive, then that meant we were stuck. No way we'd be able to outrun a ravenous horde on foot, not carting around the supplies we'd need to last more than a day or two in the unfamiliar wilderness.

"What about the guards we posted!?"

"Still taking a nap, I expect. At least they were when I stowed them behind the chicken coop." Ambrose's voice made me jump, the giant bastard somehow getting behind me without me being any the wiser. Alarm bells went off between my ears as I moved aside to gain even a smidge of distance, but it didn't help much. "They were so interested in your little show back there, it made it easy for me to catch them off guard."

He shrugged his broad shoulders, the motion oddly fluid, just like every other movement he and that Sienna witch made. So delicate, almost robotic in a way... Like every move could break the world like cardboard.

"Would've left them awake, but I wanted time to be thorough. Those Rovers you brought are built a hell of a lot tougher than they look, though. Hard to properly take them out of commission." He shrugged almost apologetically. "Makes sense, I suppose. I drove one myself in the Badlands, and between all those potholes and bumps, I couldn't feel my ass for a week afterwards."

Every Badlander was glaring at the Trapper, most still clutching swords and rifles in trembling hands. For all he appeared to care, those weapons might as well have been invisible. Sparks danced in his off hand lazily, while the other tugged at that ridiculous scarf.

"You...! _YOU...!?"_

"What? Don't tell me you thought I was just sitting around on a roof watching you mouth off onstage?" He clenched his fist, and the sparks flickered out of existence, the air still humming imperceptibly, a beat on the edge of hearing emanating from the weapon now held at his belt. "It was just in case we did have to leave in a hurry, though I'm glad regardless."

"Glad to see us ripped apart along with the rest of 'em, are ya? And here I was startin' to think you were some kinda pacifist."

"Think what you will, but we'll still need you and your people on the wall when the Grimm show."

Now that took me aback, even as the other Badlanders around me shuffled uneasily, some looking outright ready to charge the young man that had all but doomed them, if not for the steadily-growing presence of more and more armed villagers, even if they were a bunch of Mistrali bumpkins. Bumpkins Ambrose was pointin' out...

"We've got the numbers to get an even spread along the horde's expected approach, but I wouldn't trust them to hit anything moving at full speed."

Fair assessment, seeing as more than a few of the villagers were staring down the barrels of their guns looking nonplussed, even with that old Fox directing them as best she could. She was no fighter, and had likely barely ever held anything more dangerous than a broom.

"I plan on stemming the worst of the tide as best I can, taking the brunt, but I'll need people who can keep their heads on straight, and deal with what inevitably gets past me."

" _Pheh..._ You'd actually trust us to have yer back in this suicide call?"

"Absolutely not. I like hitting things, but that doesn't make me an idiot."

Well, props to the kid, saying that with as straight a face as one could expect.

"But I've seen Badlanders fight, and if your lot is even _half_ as good with a rifle as Benjamin Carson, then I want you up there, supporting those poor souls. The ones you and your gang's irresponsibility put in danger, and who are most certainly going to die if they don't have your guns."

"And we're supposed to care? Villages vanish all the time. Bad luck, nothin' more."

The words spilled from me halfheartedly, but even those nodding along with me were barely able to keep their eyes off their feet, unable to meet our target's steely gaze. Had to wonder how close I'd come to losing my head there.

"They'll string us up!" And we'd likely deserve it, too, I forgot to tack on.

This was our fault, and they knew it, that shameful weight bearing down on our shoulders. We'd assumed too much, and played our cards wrong. And Akai-Hana was going to suffer for it.

From the corner of my eye, I could see Asagi leadin' some cryin' children away from equally teary-eyed parents, some of whom I fully expected would be seeing each other for the last time.

"They won't. I _won't_ allow it. You have my word."

His word... What the hell did this kid think he was, making promises like that!? He was insane, utterly and irrefutably mad.

"Why are you stayin' Ambrose? I meant what I said before. You saw how this bunch turned on you. I didn't exactly need to do much. Flash a mask, a fancy seal... You don't owe 'em nothin', not by my reckonin'."

"My presence started all this, brought this trouble down on them however indirectly."

He said it so... so matter a factly that I couldn't help but gape, most of my people doing quite the same. Taking responsibility wasn't exactly a common trait where we came from, the Badlands harsh enough without answering for every little slight.

"Besides, it's my job as a Huntsman to defend souls from the Grimm. So that's what I'll do."

"...Couldn't..." I breathed in a deep ragged breath, shaking out my furry head before shoving my way through my people, marching straight up to stand at my full height before the giant. Not exactly the most impressive sight, maybe, ruffled, dirty, and barely keeping my nerve as I was, but the effect was enough. " _COULDN'T HAVE SAID IT BETTER MYSELF!"_

The return to my normal volume caught Ambrose wholly off guard, and set more than a few villagers looking to the walls as though the Grimm had come early, a twitch of his head as though he'd like nothing more than to cover his ears. He bore with it though with surprising grace, taking my wrist firmly in a crushing exchange.

"One last thing, though..." I whispered, drawing the Trapper... no, the _Huntsman_ in close so I could whisper in his ear. "... You ever think of comparin' me or my men to that rascal Carson again, and fancy words or no, yer catchin' a bullet in the back. Matter a pride, you get me?" I couldn't see his face, not from this angle, but I imagined he might've been smilin'.

"Understood, Rouge, I get you."

He drew back, looking pleased with himself, and started pointing directions to my men, sending them scrambling before any could realize what I'd just signed them up for, or that some of the words weren't exactly in proper speak.

Ambrose didn't even seem to notice he was slipping, switching seamlessly between the two... Quite disconcerting, that.

"Bnuit du vekrd fedr oui... _Let's kill us some Grimm!_ "

* * *

 _ **-Joel Ambrose-**_

 _'What the hell am I doing?'_

"Hold the walls, stop the Grimm," I muttered dimly in answer, doing my best to block out the rush of activity thundering around me, and focus on my breathing. I splashed another handful of cold water in my face and through my hair, feeling the familiar tingling of electricity prickling from my fingertips in anticipation, brown dye dripping away to reveal the stark white strands beneath.

Washing away my doubts, and lingering images of another settlement on fire...

"Hold the walls, stop the Grimm..."

The mantra helped. Said like that, the task almost sounded easy, so matter-a-fact. _Doable._

One could almost forget the "walls" barely even deserved the name, the gate the only part not suffering some kind of wear and tear from the elements, at least none visible, at any rate. Or that the brave defenders expected to man them were but a haphazard mix of terrified townsfolk who had maybe drilled with a proper weapon every other week if they were fortunate, and the same shifty-eyed freebooters who had gotten Akai-Hana into this mess in the first place.

Crass and belligerent, reluctant to a man, but at least these Badlanders knew which end of the rifle to point at the monsters, and how to utilize that knowledge with any sort of confidence. Even the ones I'd... Well, even injured as they were, they were useful, if prone to complaint for obvious reasons.

It was a testament of their loyalty to Rouge that they stayed, following my earlier instructions without much retort.

Of course, it could just be learned experience from a lifetime surviving in a place like their arid homeland telling them that their best chance was to stay put rather than attempt to cut it and run, which would be as good as ringing the dinner bell and serving themselves up to the beasts on a silver platter.

I chose to hope for the former, leaving it at that, Beacon burning all the while in my memory.

"Slay the Alphas, the horde loses cohesion. Just like Ben said months ago."

More images, not of just Vale this time, but others. Soulless beasts rampaging through familiar streets, memories I shouldn't have...

"Hold the walls, stop the Grimm..."

Getting the two sides to actually work together had been a challenge all on its own. One that almost doomed us right from the start. Building trust was pretty much impossible by this juncture, understandably, added to the fact that neither group appeared very eager to follow my lead in the first place. One side had considered me their quarry up until a few minutes ago, and not a soul on the other could really stand and meet my gaze, especially the Faunus among them.

Arguments and the like were inevitable, all thankfully and swiftly shouted down through the combined efforts of Rouge and Anbā. Both had shocked the milling crowd - and I think one another - with their outbursts, near-simultaneous and of quite the same simple topic. "Work together and survive, or quarrel and die."

A simple choice, the response pretty unanimous. A bustling crowd on the edge splitting up, those able to handle themselves grabbing for every weapon they could.

Meanwhile, those too young or too old were herded towards the _Amber Fox,_ the largest structure, and the easiest to defend in the worst case. Liz had been practically spitting Burn Dust when I'd ordered her along with them, not exactly thrilled with the prospect of spending a fight locked up with a bunch of terrified villagers. It had taken a bit of convincing, and some playing to her ego. Plenty of folks had seen what she had done to that bastard, and what she was capable of. Knowing she was around their loved ones was more than reassuring, at least when compared to the Soulless... To the _Grimm,_ I meant.

As for why the rest deigned to follow me at all... Well, sometimes it paid to loom large, and have a half-decent strategy planned out, or seem like you had one. Truth be told... the word filtering in from Rouge's scouts wasn't exactly promising.

"Damn it, I wish I knew more about what exactly it is we're up against."

"And if wishes were poppy, we'd all be dreaming right now, and none of this would matter, wouldn't it, Thom?" Flinching, I whirled around in a spray of wet droplets and stray sparks, hands rising, only to fall at the sight of a particular Fox Faunus. "...No, I suppose it's ' _Joel_ ' now, isn't it?... Indulge me, why 'Thomas?'"

"...My father's name. Thought it'd be appropriate." I thumbed what stained remnants of brown still clinging to my hair in dirty clumps. "From there, it was just picking a color."

"Ah." A raised eyebrow saw a smirk touch lined lips, but there was a stoniness there. One that had been erected over the course of an evening. Another thing to regret. Still she gave forth a hand, "Well, then, might as well get a proper introduction outta the way. Anbā Marigold of Akai-Hana. A pleasure."

There it was, confirmation. That didn't make it any less weird to hear, however.

I took the proffered limb hesitantly, the older woman rolling her eyes. "Joel Ambrose of Vale. Formerly of Bastion."

"Bastion? A Frontiersman, then? How exotic." I nodded, suddenly very much aware just how awkward this conversation might be. Trapper, liar, and a potential enemy of her Kingdom, at least going by the trend of news I'd heard. "Explains why I couldn't place your accent. Don't get too many of your like out here. Small wonder you had me fooled."

But not me, this Marigold was good, but she wasn't half the liar my Teacher was.

"You knew all along." It wasn't a question, the answer was obvious enough just going by her demeanor. "This whole time, right?"

"I held my suspicions. Believe it or not, you two are hardly the first to go by an alias under my roof. 'Course, a life lived in a tavern's given me a fair eye for all those that walk through my door. You're no Mistrali, or even a Valean. And that girl could only cover for you so much. Now, her? _She's_ a dangerous one. Almost took her for a native, some student you fell in with on her way back to Haven or some such."

"She'll be proud to hear it."

"I'm sure she would." Anbā put her hands on her hips, shaking her head as though thoroughly disappointed with herself, or someone else. "...Trouble, the both of you... Just the sort of kids Fortuna would think to take up." My expression must have slipped, her lip quirking, though not out of any sense of delight. "Yeah, I knew you two were hers the second I got a good look at your friend's arms that first night. I know exactly what the aftermath of my mother's twisted little ritual looks like, thank you very much, though I take it my dunderheaded Sister-in-Law never mentioned that little tidbit, did she? Wasn't exactly a good time for her."

There was a story in that stare, one experience warned me away from asking about. It was similar to the ruins of her family home, which were things that weren't mine to know.

"She never mentioned what this place was to her, or who you were."

Of course, we hadn't exactly been in any position to ask when we'd been sent Akai-Hana's way. Time had been of the essence, after all.

"Ah, no, 'course she wouldn't... Stupid woman. Still leaving me to be the responsible one, without even the courtesy to pay a visit herself. Always wondered what she'd gotten herself into..."

Her fox ears twitched atop her head, betraying the desire to take advantage, to ask questions. Thankfully, she resisted, realizing she might not like what she heard. And with things brewing outside the walls... how could it not be? Trappers as Marigold's students.

"'Course, this whole truth was something of a shock, as you can imagine. Though, looking back, Trappers _would_ be the only ones to so boldly use High Leader Khan's name to protect themselves. Delightful bit of irony to that."

"Liz does like to have her bit of fun." I dried my hands on my front, grinning sardonically, relieved I no longer had to hide. It wasn't like I was much cut out for it, anyway, all the lies and untruths... "And just so you know, it's _former_ Trappers. That's not what we are. Not really, anyway."

"'Not really?'" A raised eyebrow and a stern glance. It was so alike Professor Goodwitch's that I almost expected detention. "Sounds like the sort of thing one should be sure of."

"We're not with the Red Hand, if that's what you're worried about," I said quickly with an emphatic shake of the head, heedless of my bangs getting in my eyes and mouth. I really would have to cut it to something reasonable at some point. "But being a Trapper, it... It's not exactly something we can just put down or turn off."

"Did a decent enough job of it these last few weeks, acting the gallant Huntsman." There wasn't the sense of accusation I'd been expecting, at least not as much as I'd have thought there to be. "You play the role well. Part of me's even thinking we might just last the night, with you fighting alongside us... You didn't have to, you know. Not after the way they all turned on you both. Might've expected you to cut it and run. Sure wouldn't have blamed you."

" _I'd_ have blamed me," I said firmly, meeting her eye with determined focus. "They're good people, and were scared for good reason. I can fault them for that. Akai-Hana is worth protecting. That's all there is too it."

"...I'm glad to hear it, More so than you could likely believe."

I grinned at the rising ease to her tone, doing my best to seem reassuring. Right before she slapped the smile right off my face hard. The blow landed far harder than I'd have expected from arms like hers, so much so sparks crackled along my skin, making me blink.

Looking back, I realized she'd reached into a bag she'd slung at her waist while I'd been stunned, not acknowledging what she'd just done beyond a shake of her hand, instead drawing forth my jacket from its depths with the other. The woman must have sent for it to be retrieved from my room, right before the Inn was sealed.

"Can't have you fighting Grimm at any less than your best, now can we?" Anbā held out the gear expectantly, brow furrowing just so. "Besides, better to have it on you before you leave, don't you agree?"

I took the jacket with a nod of silent understanding, slipping it on, shame striking me like a sharp knife to the gut all the while. Still, I held my head up high, my resolve unhindered, and my path set.

As I moved towards the walls, she spoke up again, the strength from before bleeding away into a sorrowful, bone-deep weariness. "Oh, and Joel?"

"Yes?"

"When you see Fortuna again, tell her that I'll abide much under my roof and in my town... but _not_ trouble. Let her know that, won't you?"

"...I will. And thank you, Mistress Marigold." I turned on my heel, clapping a fist hard to my chest and bowing my head low. "For your hospitality and this peace, you have my gratitude."

The older woman started, but smiled after a few moments. A small victory... but it was something.

And then she was gone, leaving to prepare and organize the other volunteers who would be similarly ferrying supplies to those along the walls.

...It wasn't until a few seconds after she'd gone that I realized I hadn't said those final words in the common speech, but in the Old Tongue.

Another slip, but as with so many other things, I put it from my mind, focusing on the task ahead.

* * *

The platforms lining the top of the wall were a thrumming mess of chaotic activity barely held in check by Rouge's bellowing red-faced commands and wild gesturing.

Men and women scrambled on all sides, lighting Dust lanterns to illuminate the cleared field beyond the bulwark, passing along crates of ammunition that had been sitting in the Mayor's storehouses for years, alongside weapons that had likely been there even longer than that.

Fear and nerves played across just about every face, but they were here, and that meant something all its own. It had to... And at the very least, concentrating the fear in one place would make the Grimm predictable, which was something of an advantage.

At first, it had been my voice calling out the orders and directing the effort, drawing on the experience of trying to work a team consisting of a sadistic Faunus and two former bandits into something resembling cohesion. After hearing Roscoe Rouge at his loudest, however, and the revelation that he'd actually been holding himself back during his earlier posturing, I'd turned over the reigns, advising where needed, and letting my Badlander turned loudspeaker do the rest.

"... _HEARD THE MAN! Y'ALL MISTRALI PEACH HENS ARE WORKIN' IN PAIRS! ONE SHOOTER, ONE LOADER! IT AIN'T THAT ROUGH OF A CONCEPT, IS IT, YOU MILK DRIBBLIN' PIECES OF...!?"_

A simple enough concept to ensure rate of fire was as steady as possible, one loader prepping one of the paired rifles while their partner harried any Grimm managing to get near the walls, though their main objective would be dissuading the rare flying Grimm that might be drawn by the horde's momentum.

These guns might be antiques - a single shot probably little more than a distraction to most Grimm - but focus enough fire, and they'd be lethal enough. Or so I'd been told by Anbā when I'd been shown the haul, though she hadn't sounded too confident. The Bounty Hunter had a few more choice words about the state of her people's weapons, most of which were thankfully said out of earshot of those expected to wield them.

" _ **...SON OF A GRIMMSPAWNED...!** GIMME THAT 'FORE YA HURT YOURSELF!"_

Rouge stormed over to a white-faced Mido, who was caught up fumbling with the bolt on his dusty rifle, and nearly dropping it, tearing the weapon from shaking hands with a disgusted huff, and demonstrating the correct means of reloading, right before jamming the butte of it in his stomach, and doubling him over in a groaning heap.

 _"AH, BEASTIES'LL JUST **LOVE** YOU, PRECIOUS! ON YER FEET... I SAID_ _**ON! YOUR! FEET!** "_

"Y-y-yes, sir! On my feet, sir!"

" _I AIN'T NO **'SIR!'** THAT'S **'BOSS'** TO YOU, PRECIOUS! NOW, DO IT AGAIN, AND DO IT **RIGHT,** 'FORE I FIND A BETTER PLACE FOR IT SHOVED RIGHT UP YER SCRAWNY...!"_

" _Yes, Boss! Right away, Boss!_ " Akai-Hana's town drunk scrambled back to his feet with all due alacrity, hurrying to show he'd gotten the routine down before the Bounty Hunter shoved him back towards his partner with a disgusted huff.

 _" **AND THAT GOES FOR ALL OF YA!** NEXT POOR BASTARD TO DROP HIS GUN WON'T HAVE JUST THE BEASTIES TO WORRY 'BOUT, AND THAT GOES **DOUBLE** FOR MY CREW! Y'ALL ARE THE EXAMPLE! START **ACTIN'** LIKE IT!"_

 ** _"YES, BOSS!"_**

It was certainly crude, but it definitely got people moving in the right direction. Most took Rouge's advice, and looked to the other Bounty Hunters spaced out evenly along the top of the wall, as they were better armed and better trained. They'd be invaluable.

And spreading them out also served to keep any one of them from getting any ideas during the fighting. Better to have them surrounded by terrified villagers looking for the slightest hint of trouble and an excuse.

Like I told the Innkeeper, I'd use Rouge and his men, but that certainly didn't mean I had to trust them. Speaking of which...

"We're dead, Ambrose. You gotta know that, right?"

"Inspiring, really. Can definitely see why Ironwood took an interest in you," I chided wearily as the Bandit stomped back to me, face almost as red as his beard.

He was fingering the handle of both his guns, eyes fixed on the woods as the first of the Grimm's snarling screams and cries began filtering through the trees. About time he picked up on the noise. I'd been trying to ignore the screeching cacophony for minutes already. Wouldn't be long now...

"We still have a chance. Don't you worry."

"Oh? And how do ya figure that, Sparkplug?" More nicknames? I'd always thought that was purely a "Carson" thing. You learn something new everyday. "Way I see it, we're down a wheel in the Wastes, and the storm's a -comin' our way."

"Well, you're still here, aren't you?" I grinned meekly as he eyed me with a bewildered grimace. "Don't know. Something just tells me that if we were completely screwed, you'd have been long gone by now, horde or no horde, Rovers or no Rovers."

"Hmm... Dunno 'bout that." Rouge drew his pistol, checking the cylinder with a grunt before thumbing the firing pin and holding it out towards the copse of barren branches that divided civilized lands from the hell of the wilds. "Maybe I just didn't feel like testin' my luck or takin' my chances."

"Really? What kind of bandit are you, then?"

"The one that's expectin' to see the sunrise tomorrow, and who's really hopin' the uppity Trapper knows what he's doin'."

I barked out a laugh at that, noting that he didn't join in. The reason why slinked from the marshy swamp lands on four clawed feet, red eyes burning in the moonlight, drawing cries of alarm across the wall until Rouge quieted them with a wordless shout that his own people took up. Weapon stocks clattering on hastily nailed wooden railings along the top of the defensive structure.

The Beowolf answered in kind, rearing its slavering maw back, and loosing a howl that was soon joined by others from seemingly dozens of throats.

So many... A demoralizing shriek that stole the courage completely from more than one soul, and put tears in the eyes of many more.

It couldn't stand...

"You _do_ know, don'tcha?" Rouge put a meaty hand on my shoulder as I made to clamber up on the parapet, glancing nervously at the front runner of the horde, pawing at the snowy ground in challenge. "What yer doin'?"

"If I don't, I suppose you'll be the first to know, won't you?" No snarky reply there. Bit late for second thoughts, anyway.

I shrugged him off, adjusting the scarf about my neck to shield my face from the cold before stepping boldly off the wall, falling several feet to land in a crouch at its foot to the awe of its defenders.

Straightening up with hair and fabric whipping about my face, I made to stare at the soulless lead beast across from me, a small measure of dirt sliding from the gaps in my clenched fist.

The action gave me calm. The pre-battle ritual was a comfort and an affirmation all in one...

 _'They will **not** take this ground. Not while I stand!'_

But sadly, it wouldn't stop them from trying regardless...

The Beowolf forerunner had caught sight of me with a sniffing growl, and sprang forward suddenly without warning. It moved slowly and cautiously at first as it heeded the other Souls atop the wall, but swiftly gained in speed when it scented their fear. Before long its advance had turned to a loping charge.

Crimson eyes burning like flares in the naked night, standing out starkly against white bone armor and black furred flesh, panting steam in the cool air, tongue slavering hungrily...

 _Disgusting._ An instinctive repulsion bred into me, shaped further by memories of Vale and more besides.

Voices rose up from the walls, fumbling calls to shoot the Grimm beaten down by Rouge's voice. And this was just the start. Already, I could see others of its kind and more lurching from the murky darkness, hanging back and watching the start of the attack play out before them, but it was of little concern despite the cries of alarm.

I'd seen the size of the horde that had come for Vale, the tides of screaming monsters baying for the Kingdom's terrified citizens, which this poor reflection sought to mimic. With no dragon this time to lead them, hopefully.

 _'This isn't work. This is **revenge...** '_

Matching its howl with a near-silent growl, I moved to meet the vanguard beast head on, blood and adrenaline pounding in my veins with every Aura-fueled step carrying me further and further, closer and closer...

The crunch of thawing snow beneath my boots, the snap of Yang's scarf tails fluttering in the wind, my breath steaming with each measured breath to match the creature's own... A low incessant hum set the tempo, and built my movements while the world seemed to almost slow, the crystal set into the weapon at my side quite literally living up to its name.

It was so familiar now. So much so, I was quite amazed I'd ever fought without the _Heart_ at my side. That steady beat rippled up the nerves of my arm to caress the beating drum in my chest...

For the briefest instant, my hand strayed to the crackling cylinder hanging at my side, an impulse almost too tantalizing to ignore. But I did, though not with a snarl of disappointment.

With a maddened bloodthirsty howl, the beast leapt at me in a violent plume of ice flecks and dirt. Curved fangs glinted in the light of the lanterns shining from behind in a maw that would have swallowed my head in a single snapping bite had I not dropped, sliding across the ground at the last possible moment.

In that instant, with the shadow of the Grimm hurtling above me, I kicked upwards from leverage into its sternum, snatching a handful of black fur at the scruff of its neck while using the monster's own momentum to bear it thrashing to the ground in a maddened crush, to the amazement of all.

Showy, but it was meant to be.

Maneuvering myself easily around flailing limbs, I slammed one hand into the base of its skull with enough force to send cracks rippling through the bone plating, the other wrapped firm about its windpipe, the sleeve of my jacket adjusted so that as much skin as possible was in contact with the Grimm's bare flesh.

A pulse of blue that lasted seconds, but always felt like an eternity. The rush of electricity thrumming down my arm and into the spasming creature I held, and it was done. The Beowolf dissolving to dark matter with barely more than a piteous whine from a lolling, smoking tongue, leaving me crouched in the snow, and poised to brace myself against its pack mates.

Two smaller creatures that had thought to sneak up on me while I'd been distracted in dealing with their companion both dropped abruptly in rolling somersaults, with a slender silvery knife planted squarely between their eyes. Their bodies spasmed with electrical excitement as well before breaking down just like the first.

 _"People of Akai-Hana! This is YOUR land!_ "

 _Storm Song_ practically flew into my sparking hand now in a hiss of whistling silver, blade extending into a spear held before me against the host of Grimm charging into the open. More packs of rabid Beowolves, the odd Creep clawing its way between them, Gargoyles gliding from the trees overhead, and other things I'd only ever seen illustrated in Professor Port's textbooks.

A trickle of something thrilled through me then. Not fear, but... _excitement..._ More a joy, really. _This_ was what I enjoyed. Where I felt confident, _alive..._

Charging headlong to meet the oncoming tide, electricity roiled up my arms, and silver cut crackling traceries in the air. All the while, I smiled...

 _"FIGHT FOR IT!"_

* * *

 _ **-Benjaminin Carson-**_

" _Stupidity!_ " Ambrose spluttered, caught somewhere between indignant annoyance and angry muttering over the state of my arm, unceasing his little tirade for a good half hour, I reckoned, and set for a couple more if pressed. Never had I seen the young man so... " _Utter, unforgivable, bloody, downright idiotic stupidity of the highest kind!_ Of all the _asinine, moronic..._!"

"I _know,_ Specs. No need to keep spoutin' off your fancy words." I eased back against the bench. Not the one the Tiger Faunus had torn to shavings, but another one a ways from the scene, and away from the cameras. "Trust me, I'm well aware of just how stupid this all was."

"Oh, _do you,_ now!? Wandering about an unsecured area, alone, and in your condition! I'm glad you're _so_ aware!"

Fair point... Not exactly one of my more intelligent notions, acting like I hadn't taken an arrow of blazing hot glass straight to the knee. But still, did he have to...? Why was he looking at his watch?

"Allison, definition of 'stupidity!' A list, if you would!?" The crimson light of his artificial aide blinked off an acknowledgement.

"Oh, c'mon! That's just bein' a tad bit...!"

 _"'Stupidity.' Noun. Behavior that shows a lack of good sense or judgment. The quality of being stupid or unintelligent..."_ a synthesized voice began in a tone far too cheery for what she was reading, all matter-of-fact in a manner painfully similar to Polendina ages back. _"Synonyms: lack of intelligence, foolishness, denseness, brainlessness, ignorance, dull-wittedness, slow-wittedness, doltishness, slowness..."_

"...Satisfied?" I said after a full minute of recitation, filing away a few of the more fantastical phrases for later use, and generally feeling like I'd just been punched in the gut by the Brute all over again. "Think she made your point for ya."

" _Hardly._ " Just _great..._ I settled down, bracing what was left of my pride. Ball parking it?... Not much. "Allison, update on how many message threads you are running related to this attack in the last... hmm, let's say five minutes! Keyword 'Carson' and 'moron,' while you're at it!"

"Look, man, you ain't gotta go draggin'...!"

 _"Currently standing at thirty-five active notifications. Priority alerts traced to General James Ironwood and Winter Schnee of the Atlas Special Operatives Unit, as well as an additional communique pinging on Carson's Scroll from Miss Weiss Schnee. All are requesting confirmation of Benjamin Carson's current status."_ Oh gods, even the _Princess_ knew!? Wonderful... _"As well as a full report."_ Of _course_ they wanted one of those too...

"Battered but breathing, though I'm not at all uncertain by the way he's acting that some sort of head injury wasn't sustained!" I shot him a sour glare, one that was returned with far more venom. More than I thought the young scientist capable of. "And yes, before you ask, that was ' _sarcasm._ ' You're the doctor, Al. I'm certain you can work that into something appropriate. And tell them Carson will have a report readied in the next few hours. He's rather shaken."

"I'll handle it right now! I don't need you tryin' to... _Gah!_ " I flinched aside, covering my mouth to halt the shout caused by a sudden and very painful prodding courtesy of the big bastard rooting about in my arm.

The AI gave a chirping affirmative, adding something about multiple contusions of some bone or another, the medical jargon soaring right over my head. Ambrose seemed to be eating it up, however, nodding along absently.

"Excellent. Now forward yourself to Private Garrett's Scroll, and aid in filing his reports. See if you can't help him along."

" _A-agh..._ Appreciate ya doin' that," I piped up after the AI's light dimmed, taking it as a signal that we had some shred of privacy. My composure slipped with a gasp as another shudder ran down the phantom nerve endings in my arm, eased only slightly under Ambrose's ministrations. "Poor Echo was already swamped as it was, after tonight..."

"No thanks in part to his Commanding Officer, I imagine!" That hurt. A lot more than I'd been expecting it to.

My weary eyes picked out Rosso's ruddy sweating face in the crowd, swiping furiously through a now red-lit tablet while Cherry did her best to placate, or at least distract, the various media hounds clambering onto the scene with a combination of Badlands charm and misdirection.

The story of what happened had already been relayed through her fanciful recollection of events, the whole gaping lot of the vultures following her every word with rapt attention and scribbling pens.

A tale of dastardly White Fang assailants striking at the crippled Benjamin Carson on his way back to the nearest barracks, unaware and fresh from celebrating some obscure, fake Badlands holiday that actually sounded half genuine to anyone who'd never been to the region.

A brilliant little lie among several on Cherry's, spun together to explain away some rumors that the Specialist's elusive parents had been spotted in the Kingdom.

The would-be assassins took advantage of the moment in an attack thwarted only by brave and swift action of the part of the Specialist's nameless bodyguard, forced to engage against dire odds while I apparently lay wounded on the ground. Not quite cowering, but unable to assist.

Certainly not the bait for an elaborate trap on the part of the Trapper. Going for sympathy with the crowd, something else I would have to play up when they finally spotted me.

Girl always did have a bit of a flair for the dramatic, and for leading a crowd where she wanted. Useful as any other skill could be, growing up among thieves.

From the way the former Bandit Princess had spun it, she might have been present for the fight herself, rather than working off what few scraps of detail Jasper had shared before being led off for "questioning."

Part of me almost expected to see one of Rouge's boys fleecing the crowd of onlookers while they watched. Hell, my own palm itched, tempted to pull the deed myself.

Oh, what I wouldn't _give_ for a bit of normalcy...

"Garrett is a good soul, with a great deal of pressure put on him. They all are. Even the Trapper in his own way, as unbelievable as that might seem."

He furrowed his brow behind those curious glasses of his, gazing out at the utter destruction wrought during the attempt, the worst signs, such as the broken bodies and jagged masonry, having already been cleared away before the cameras had arrived in force, but one couldn't exactly hide the craters or the rocket locker buried in the ground.

Remnants of an attack that shouldn't have happened. At least not the way it did. Not so desperately.

"Too good for your behavior, far too good for all... _this!"_

" _Man, stow it, already!_ "

I rounded on him, wrenching the wrecked mechanical limb from his grasp more on accident than on purpose, but at least it pushed him away. I wanted my flask, my throat parched, but I resisted. Something told me it wouldn't end well if I tried going for it just now. I was pushing my luck tonight as it was.

"What the hell do you know!? Mister ' _I-Think-Buildin'-A-Godsdamned-Nuke's-A-Good-Idea!_ ' _Real smart!_ Greatest mind in all of Remnant for sure!"

At that, panic finally met the boy's eyes, much to my sick, twisted, shameful delight. " _Keep your voice down!_ " he said through gritted teeth.

"Oh, _now_ you wanna be quiet! Best idea you've had all night!" I seethed, bringing my hand up to my forehead with a growl before turning back to him. "I get it, alright!? I screwed up! You think I don't know that!? That I don't appreciate my people, and what they've been forced to put up with!? Coverin' for me with the rest of my crew, holdin' my damned hair back, pickin' me up when all this fails and I can hardly stand!"

I brought the arm up, exposed gears and servos whirring while the savaged hand maneuvered itself to my bulky brace about my knee. The casing had been bent and warped under repeated abuse, digging like flaming needles into the joint. Cinder's handiwork, and my own pride...

Constant reminders of how _weak_ I was. Aside form every time I've had to limp up a flight of stairs, or saw folks like Jasper in action, fighting.

"They follow me, say they're proud to serve under me! How or why, I have no idea!" Especially Echo... Cherry had some sense of lingering loyalty and affection from the old days, as much as she tried her best to hide it, and even then, a lot of why she put up with it spurred off Garrett. Jasper was in it because of Joel, and the opportunities I offered himself and the rest of JADE. But even so... And Weiss, gripping to me as the last poor substitute for what she had at Beacon. "I appreciate em! Hell, I don't think I could do all this without 'em!"

"Then _ACT_ like it, will you!? _Pmuutmacc hut'uun!_ "

For a moment I froze, mistaking the demand as being from Ambrose... The _real_ Ambrose, not his little brother.

It bore the same hallmark weight, and gave just the right level of judging disappointment to make it sore. That, and the guttural, accented curse that had spilled from his lips, words that seemed to have even Specs caught off guard. The scientist flushed, clearing his throat and coughing awkwardly, as if the language had physically pained him to utter.

For all I knew, maybe it had? Whatever it had meant, it hadn't sounded at all pleasant.

"Apologies. I... That was too much."

"Ya do realize I've got no idea what any of that jargon means, right?" I smirked through the tension, not quite able to feel it, let alone make it at all convincing. "Your brother didn't exactly leave a dictionary lyin' around. Still, must've been pretty bad. though, if it's gotcha apologizin'."

The Frontiersman turned Atlas artificer shook his head wearily, now having calmed down, and finding himself quite unable to meet my gaze. The action was so alike yet unlike his brother, it might have been funny any other time. At this moment, however...

"It's not so bad. Just not true... Not _yet,_ anyway." The flask. That's what he was eyeing sidelong, burning a hole through my chest pocket. Of course he was. "...You're not well."

Understatement of the year, that. And Ambrose said he wasn't funny...

"...My friends are lost, and possibly Grimm food, including the girl I fancied...nah, more'n that. The ones behind it are still at large, doin' gods only know what... And rather than huntin' them down like I was promised, I'm stuck here, fillin' out forms and buried in clerical work, pretendin' I don't work for the same people I scammed and stole from for years, and are even now plannin' to see my home thrown to the Beowolves on top of everything else!... Which you _will_ keep to yourself, thank you very much!" I added, noting the dumbstruck expression twisting his features. "Y'know how I spend most nights, when I'm not usually runnin' battle plans or weighin' leads, huh?... I just stare at a paintin' I spent half a fortune on, and emulate dear old Dad... _Believe me,_ Specs, when I say I _know_ I ain't doin' so hot..."

"...Carson, what happened in Vale, to Miss Nikos and... and the others..." He clamped his mouth shut, his point made without the need to elaborate any further. "That wasn't your fault. None of it was. That blame belongs..."

"To Cinder Fall, the White Fang, and the monsters behind them. I've known that for _months._ "

Of course I did. I wasn't stupid. My conscience could ream me over what happened to Pyrrha on top of that tower, for Redgrave going down in flames, and for leaving Max and Reika to fight alone, but in the end, "what-ifs" wouldn't fix things.

The past had passed, after all, and looking back just meant you couldn't see what was to come.

...Unless you're a certain bandit with a masochistic streak prone to vices, of course.

"You've beaten them before. Garrett, the others... They follow you because you're the Bandit of Beacon. You stole victory from the jaws of defeat, and saved their lives."

"You were there, Specs. We didn't ' _beat_ ' them. Term's a bit subjective... But yeah. We hurt em'." Rosie did, at any rate, with whatever silver-eyed craziness she had going for her. And while I liked to think much of Vale still stood because of my actions, the truth was it was all thanks to the actions of far braver men and women than I. "Psycho... Your brother, Reika, Max... I had them then to keep me honest... AMBR and rest of my friends... As dire as everything got towards the end, it was _simple._ Protect them, protect Vale, fight with them, and stand together against the beasties."

A wistful smile crinkled my expression, followed up by a look of utmost revulsion as I drew in a breath, staring at what was left of me.

"...Now I can't even do _that,_ let alone fight... Just bark my piece, and look pretty. Ironwood knows it. It's why he's got me benched so I don't cause him too much trouble..."

"Hehe... That certainly worked out well, didn't it?" he chuckled, patting his own robotic thigh in mirror of my own stance. He knew what it was like to be crippled, but he'd risen beyond it. "We'll need that Benjamin Carson back. Sooner rather than later, I imagine. For your crew, if nothing else. With the kind of risks they take for you, you should... I don't know... At least try to be worthy of them."

An Ambrose-like statement if I'd ever heard one. _'These two really are related...'_ The right thing to do, wrapped up in a veil of fancy words and bearing.

"'...Worthy,' huh?... S'pose it's a goal, at least. Somethin' to work towards..." I struggled and groaned, forcing myself to my feet despite his wordless protests, eyeing my twitching, half-disassembled prosthetic and the bulky brace with something akin to disgust... and a fair bit of resolve that welled up. "...Fix me, please."

"That's not my job," Ambrose replied as he stood, making him turn back to him quickly. "I'll help you to the ambulance. They should...!"

"You're not listenin' doc," I cut off, staring at him intently with the most serious glare I could muster. "I said... _fix me._ "

"Hmm? What are you...?" His big brain caught up an instant later, eyes set in their sockets and mouth pursed, gaze drifting between shoulder and leg. "You... You're _certain,_ then? But you said... well... D-didn't you say...?"

I knew what I said. I know what I'd wanted to avoid... But not after tonight.

Tonight I'd felt weak, and not just because I'd been in the presence of a Huntress. I'd spent the better part of a year living with a trained fighting machine like Ambrose, a girl like Max and her Semblance, and the better part of my life living around a powerhouse like Reika. It was safe to say that I was used to feeling outclassed... but rarely _weak._

Not since I'd first woken up in that ward minus my good arm, a piece of me lost forever and my life out of my hands.

In the face of those White Fang, I'd been practically unable to move as I'd wanted or act properly, and it had almost gotten me - and likely someone else - killed. And Cinder? She was still out there, somewhere.

A handful of venom and a few fancy tricks wouldn't stop the monster she'd become.

I'd wallowed, but now... Now, I needed to _stand._

"...I don't care if I wind up lookin' like Ironwood's ugly twin brother. I need to be able to walk again. To _run_ again. To _fight_ again!"

I hadn't meant to raise my voice, or lose my grip on my emotions. The whole world slowed down for a few seconds, allowing me to glean his facial cues and tells like an open book. Jacob Ambrose was nervous. Excited at the prospect, but nervous.

"Can you do it, and fast? Short recovery, maximizin' results? Pain's no barrier, if it works, do it." This was crazy. This was insane... This was _exactly_ what Joel would do in my place. Not the best comfort, but it was something. "Is that possible?"

I held out a hand - my flesh and blood one - towards him. And after a long, pregnant pause, the Professor took it. "I can. And its not like I won't be able to spare your, er... features. Allison does good work." Well, that was something of a relief, right? Though I had seen Joel and those curious implant scars of his, which was the AI's handiwork from what I'd been told. "But even so, to get what I think you really want, well... It will hurt. A lot, even. Especially for the knee. You're... You're sure?"

From a guy that had endured what he had - the scars covering his body and the missing leg - that prospect was actually rather unsettling.

So I answered it, the only way I knew how, clapping a hand on his back as an excuse for the larger boy to carry me towards a waiting transport, my allies swiftly moving to follow in our wake. Plans would have to be made, excuses given, boundaries set. But that was all for later.

"...But my face'll be fine, right? I mean this moneymaker's gotten pretty popular 'round here."

"...Yes, Carson. It'll be just fine... for the most part. I think."

"Aw, Specs, you really are just a treat."

Huh. Only a few seconds in, and I was already regretting this decision. But curiously enough, I didn't feel the ever-present thirst rearing its ugly head. Not yet, anyway. Progress, which was spent joking with the flustered young man.

It was almost like messing with his brother, but the target was taller, snarkier, and infinitely easier to tease.

 _'Boss, wherever you are, I hope you're having a better night than I am.'_

Somehow, for some odd sinking reason in my gut... I doubted that...

* * *

-END

* * *

 **(-Primer-)**

 **Bnuit du vekrd fedr oui... -** Proud to fight with you...

 **Pmuutmacc hut'uun! -** Bloodless coward!

* * *

 **A/N: And another chapter down, with Ben ready to take steps to mend and Joel leading a force of townsfolk and bandits against a horde of Grimm. Glad to finally be at this point.**

 **Next chapter should mark the end of this sort've intro arc. Ran a bit longer than I'd expected but that seems to be part for the course with this story. (Missing the days of 5k updates.)**

 **Have had some work related craziness with another new job, but here's hoping I can make it work. Just a heads-up that I might be out for a bit as a result. On another note entirely I was surprised to see the Bollywood flick I worked pop up on Amazon Prime, which was neat. If you're into romance and out of the blue dance numbers then check out 'Ninnu Kori'.**

 **Regardless thanks for sticking with all this madness and I appreciate the support. Will be sure to have another brutal fight for you next time.-Mojo**

* * *

 **(Next Chapter: Joel fights to save Akai-Hana, but who's going to save him?)**


	21. Chapter 21

_**Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_

* * *

THE CHAMPION OF ROWAN'S FRONTIER

* * *

 _ **-Joel Ambrose-**_

 _'Wha...? What just hit me!?'_

I blinked my eyes open to a world blurred thick and muddy with blunt trauma, lying eagle-spread, and dazed in the chilling embrace of a snowbank, not quite sure how I'd wound up there.

 ** _-"Vekrdehk. Pnehkehk te Cuimmacc diryc..."-_**

 _ **-"Fighting. Bringing the Soulless low..."-**_

 _'A battle... Yeah, that's right...'_ I stiffened, bringing a hand to my head, and biting back a curse. Ignoring the voice... I had to ignore it. If I didn't...

We'd been winning against all odds, not one Grimm having made it over the walls - none living, anyway - with only a few casualties on our sides from what I'd heard. Rouge's people had done their jobs well, covering the skies, and picking off flyers before they could make much.

Anbā and her group scurried about with messages and supplies, supporting the fighters where they could.

 _'And I was...?'_

Fighting the Grimm, keeping them busy... Distracted...

Last thing I recalled, I'd been fending off some strange horror of a Grimm that seemed native to the swamp-strewn marshes nearby. A bloated mess all tentacles and gnashing curved fangs that had dredged itself through the snowy dirt, and had the annoying trait of growing back whatever limbs I'd decided to hack away in a matter of seconds.

A challenge, and that had been before its large twin had emerged from the haze of fetid air with a bellow of acrid gas. The beast flopped about, feelers lashing out to crush anything they could get their suckers on, even other Grimm, throwing them into the ground, and dragging the twitching remnants into a beaked maw.

Rouge had shouted something after I'd dispatched it, stabbing _Storm Song_ deep into the core of the writhing mass, and venting a full charge of my Semblance upon the creature while an organized volley of shots from the wall tore apart the other in moments faster than it could regenerate.

A warning even I'd barely managed to pick out over the screams before something roughly twice the size of a Beringel - and easily three times as mean, covered in coarse patches of dark matted fur, a slavering canine jaw with gnarled antlers atop its head - had crashed exploded onto the scene.

Quite literally, in fact, as it angrily smashed the first layer of tree cover to a hailstorm of splinters with brawny arms all coiled, bulging muscle, and claws the length of my forearm capping six fingered paws.

Other Grimm scurried to flee its path, one Beowolf moving too slow, and was crushed beneath hooves in the place of back feet, its body imploding in a messy spray of dark matter.

Wildly at first, I'd though it might have been a Chimera, given the level of variance in its appearance. My thoughts drifted back to that first, desperate fight during Beacon's Initiation, where AMBR had come together to fight as a team for the first time in truth. Then Rouge had called it "Bies," a name I dimly recognized from Professor Port's textbooks, but had never encountered in the wilds before.

From the way the other Soulless acted around it... _'A 'challenger,' then. A contender looking to take over for the Terror of the Skies, and expand its own territory.'_

I'd braced myself, ratcheting _Storm Song_ back into its short sword form, and readying myself to meet the successor of the Nevermore I'd slain head on. Of course, I should have been protecting my hearing.

Just the newcomer's trumpeting shriek alone was enough to send me reeling back clutching at my ears, a second's distraction. A second had been all the time it had needed, the beast charging the wall headlong, moving faster than anything that size had any right to be. I'd leapt and swung, blade biting deep into the flesh of its side, but I might as well have tried to dodge for all the good it did.

As it was, I hadn't even registered on its radar, standing my ground, only to be shouldered aside with a single glancing blow that, despite my jacket and Aura, clobbered the air from my lungs, and left my arm aching with a deeper pain. A few heartbeats spent testing specific muscle groups one after the other, checking for damages.

Not so bad. A sprain, maybe? Negligible, a moment's meditation dulling the shooting pain to little more than a dull throb at the back of my mind.

No, if anything my pride hurt more than my body, dull fury building on the foundation as something deep in the song of the _Heart_ roared in sympathy.

 _'My weapon, where's...?'_

Almost instinctively, my hand reached out blindly to snatch hold of _Storm Song_ around its hilt, what pain that had remained fading ever further as sparks coursed a tingling pathway along my nerves. A strange sensation.

Not painful exactly, if far from comfortable.

 _'Huh... Never thought to do that before...'_ I swung the arm slowly, maneuvering the sword through a form or two, frowning at the sense of numbness in my fingers, but seeing little in the way of obstacle. It would serve...

" _HO, KID! WHAT'RE YA DOIN'!? OFF YER ASS!_ "

A chorus of terrified screams and Rouge's desperate call snapped me back to reality with a rush of horror. If I'd been knocked out, even for a few seconds...!?

Clambering to my feet with my sword driven into the ground as leverage, I rounded on Akai-Hana's wall, and was relieved to see it still intact, for the most part, though one section appeared to have half -ollapsed inward under the weight of an enormous series of blows.

Those men and women still standing amidst the chaos, Rouge clutching both his weapons in hand at their head, did their best to defend against what few Grimm remained. There was far less than before, yet those left were by far the most vicious of the lot.

Few were willing to approach the feeding ground marked by their leader - their new Alpha - a ground I could see from the claw marks along the top of the damaged section that it had clambered into.

The defenses had been breached.

 _'Oh, no... No, no, **no!** '_

Closing my eyes, I could just make out the thundering chorus of its footsteps, the cries as townsfolk and defender alike fled or fell in its wake. It ignored most, set on its path, rumbling towards the greatest concentration of fear and negativity in the area. A veritable buffet.

It was heading straight for the _Amber Fox._ Straight for Liz and Asagi...

A shot rang out, and something fell down heavily behind me with a muted squeal. I looked back, seeing the dissolving remnants of a Creep with its head blown off, one that in my distraction I'd missed.

" _Ambrose, just go! We'll hold the rest here!_ "

Miss Anbā had appeared along the top of the wall next to Rouge, lowering a smoking rifle, and pointing back inside the village. The fear was clear as day on her lined face, alongside a determined resolve that, in that moment, reminded me so much of my wayward mentor.

A brief moment's hesitation. The numbers of Grimm heading their way wasn't like the horde we'd face earlier - far from it - but it was far from paltry...

"Well!? What are you waiting for, an invitation!? _Get moving, boy!_ "

Closing my eyes and gritting my teeth, I nodded, shooting off one last quick salute before sprinting for the wall, powerful strides closing the distance in moments before I vaulted clear to the top before using my position as a springboard to leap into the now-smoking village beyond.

While falling into the thick of it, I noted some of the Dust lanterns strung between buildings for the festival had reacted poorly to the chaos, causing more than a few fires as the beast's path pulled them down from their housings.

A problem the villagers were scrambling to rectify with pails of water drawn from the wells or simply buckets of snow and dirt, beating back the worst of the blazes or at the very least cutting them off from other structures. The usual crimson of the village's buildings were only thrown into sharper relief by the firelight.

It was desperate and painful to look at, but it did present a pretty clear path to my quarry. As if I needed one in the first place.

Even without better hearing, I would have been able to track the Bies, its roars echoing between the savaged buildings, and footfalls shaking the ground and rattling doors and other supports. One building outright collapsed under the strain, filling the air with choking dust and debris.

I couldn't stop, slinging my way onto rooftops on a draw line when the roads became too cluttered, the beast disregarding the winding paths through the village, opting instead to storm a straight path, and caring little for what or who got in its way.

Certainly determined, I'd give it that much.

Thankfully, the destruction had served to slow it down somewhat, and I caught my first glimpse of the monster from overhead just as it pounded onto the main avenue facing the inn's hastily boarded-up structure. The last bulwark for several of Akai-Hana's oldest and newest generation. And standing just outside in the naked night waiting to meet the oncoming beast...

"Oh gods, aren't _you_ an ugly one!" Elizabeth Briar called out from the threshold, braced and looking ready to attack the Grimm if not for Asagi, who stood beside her, clutching tightly at a broom, of all things. "The hell are you supposed to be!?"

"Y-yeah, what she said!" the Snake Faunus echoed her, at least having the sense to look terrified at the prospect of facing down a beast easily capable of tearing the building she stood in front of with its bare claws. " _The Amber Fox_ is refusing services, you ugly... Thom!?"

She'd seen me charging across the rooftops, face lighting up with blatant hope at the sight. _'Great. No pressure, then... By her blood, what the hell do those two think their doing outside!?'_

 _ **-"Pnyjamo tavahtehk val rayndr. Cdynehk tufh y dannun cilr sa ibac, yht payideac duu...veha fusah ehtaat!"-**_

 _ **-"Bravely defending their hearth. Staring down a terror such as that, and beauties, too... Fine women indeed!"-**_

"Shut up!"

The words spilled from my mouth before I could stop myself in mid-twisting leap, spear stabbing outward to tear a sizable gash in the Grimm's meaty flank. A smile was building despite myself at the pained bellow, even as the effort of tearing the weapon free jarred my shoulder as though I'd driven my weapon against steel.

It didn't feel like mine though...

Hitting the ground and coming up in a neat forward roll, I threw myself to the side to avoid a tree trunk-sized fist that would have probably seen me squashed into gooey crimson chunks in the snow, Aura or no Aura.

Spear compressing in hand even as I somersaulted once again, I brought my arm out and in a wide arc, _Storm Song's_ reel line snapping out, and striking home across the Grimm's canine jawline with a crack like a thunderbolt. Sparks radiated along the length of the silver whip, the weapon thrumming vibrantly in my palm, hot to the touch.

A hefty lash, one that shattered teeth and drove it bellowing into the side of the closest house stunned, but far from fatal. Its counterattack alone almost saw me gored on the ends of one of those wickedly sharp antlers, and it was all I could do to avoid getting squished or crushed by the battlefield as much as the actual Grimm.

 ** _-"Tuh'd layca! Gaab sujehk!"-_**

I ducked, weaved, jumped, every motion I could think of to avoid the monster's stomping fury, at one point even swinging about from my reel line, silver carving across muscle. Tossing dagger after dagger anywhere I could, dotting the beast's unguarded joints, searing through thick muscle, though all it seemed to do was enraged the monster further.

 ** _-"Don't cease! Keep moving!"-_**

 _'I already told you, shut up! SHUT UP!'_

Being unable to concentrate properly, the amount of charge I could pass along to the miniature lightning rods was minimal at best. Enough to put down a Beowolf, maybe, if I was lucky, but this thing soaked up the electricity, ignoring the charred skin and spasming muscles, eyes alight with fiery hatred.

With a grimace, the box ejector at my hip clicked empty, ammunition spent.

The _Bies_ was now on a full rampage, throwing back its head in a blind fury that tore of the ground, and shredded what remained of the structure around it - along with a good section of the buildings surrounding it - to so much scattered timber.

Eyes stinging from dust and smoke, I raised my arms to ward off the worst of the shrapnel with the harder armored sleeves of my jacket, darting up the length of a fallen support beam at a run, using it as a springboard to propel myself back into the open street.

Weapon raised, I snapped back the reel line, taking hold of my sword in a reverse grip, crouching low, ready to move in the snow-strewn dust.

I'd been expecting a charge, which was probably why I was a moment late in reacting when the building's hearth - a great stone structure still blazing with internal Burn Dust - was suddenly hurtling towards me. The Grimm had gotten smart, knowing I'd try to gain some distance.

As it stood, I was saved by a hairs breadth when Liz tackled me aside with her shoulder, carrying us both away from an impact that left a long, burning gouge in the dirt for several yards, and set fire to another three buildings in the process when the internal Dust core went critical. The explosion was deafening, though I managed to turn us around in the dirt so all the bits of burning debris pattered across my back rather than against her wincing form underneath.

So brave, she couldn't even summon up a proper barrier, but here she was. Exactly where she _shouldn't_ be.

"Dammit, Liz!" I dragged her up, trying to be gentle with the motions, but with the Grimm tearing itself free and snatching about for more debris, I was forced to hurry some. "You trying to get yourself killed!?"

"That's my line! I just saved your ass, if you hadn't noticed!"

"Fine, we're even! Now grab Asagi, and get back inside before it...!"

 _ **-"Tuh'd hiibir gar aoac teh vua, vuum Bib!"-**_

 ** _-"Don't take your eyes from the foe, fool Pup!"-_**

A flicker of movement and the nameless urging underlying my thoughts were all the warning I had, allowing me a moment's time to shove Liz aside before the Bies snatched me up in its jaws by the arm, and carried me off, a flagging Aura and the durability of my equipment all that allowed me to keep the limb.

Still, it didn't stop the beast from whipping me from side to side like Zwei with a stubborn chew toy, which I was, no doubt about that. My Aura and the jacket began to smoke, the things saliva corrosive.

I couldn't spark or risk losing the barrier about my arm, the pressure alone enough to snap it like a twig at the slightest hint of weakness, but I had other ways of fighting back. Snatching hold desperately in an attempt to find purchase against the smooth material of its mask, I thrashed about with _Storm Song,_ hacking away at bony plate again and again, until one lucky - or unlucky - swing scored its eye and carved it in two.

If I'd thought the Grimm had been loud before, the roar it loosed now was enough to near to deafening. Bile welling up in my throat as the Bies loosed me from its jaws towards the _Amber Fox's_ work yard like a cannonball flying end over end, I smashed me bodily into the same pile of timber I'd been steadily building up for weeks. _Storm Song_ glinted in the moonlight as it arced away, torn from my grasp by the force of travel.

The shock of the impact dispelled what was left of my flickering Aura with an audible crackle and pop, something in my right forearm finally giving way inside, pins and needles lancing through to my fingertips.

Suddenly numb and full of cotton weight, my head lolled backwards as every muscle in my body rebelled at my attempts to move, exhaustion and a night of nonstop combat taking its toll at last.

" _Joel!_ "

Liz's horrified cry split the air followed swiftly by Asagi's, both soon drowned out by the Bies' renewed chorusing calls of triumph. It was gloating, but soon enough, it would turn its focus back to its original prey.

' _Move...'_

Back towards the people I'd sworn to protect...

 _'...MOVE!'_

And there was not a damn thing I could do about it, my eyelids so damned heavy, consciousness fading rapidly.

 _ **-"**_ _ **Tu oui tacena so yet, huf?"-**_

That voice - the same one that had echoed in the back of my thoughts all evening whenever I let my guard down, whenever I wavered - spoke now. The thrumming beat of the _Heart_ was louder than ever before in my ears, despite its absence from my grasp. It was almost enough to drown the rest of the night out, all-consuming in its tempo.

 _ **-"Do you desire my aid, now?"-**_

And against all reason... I trusted this feeling. I surrendered...

 _'...Okay... **Please...** I beg you... Save them!'_

 ** _-"A warrior does not beg, Scion of Ambrose!"-_**

The harsh rebuke seared my mind like fiery glass, making my jaw clench. Anger and irritation that wasn't my own came to the surface, mixed thoroughly with something else. Something deeper and more innocent... Excitement.

And a barking laughter that built in pitch above all else, even the beating of the crystal in my hand...

 _ **-"Feh... Rest, Heir. Rest, and leave this hunt to me..."-**_

* * *

 _ **-Elizabeth Briar-**_

" _Joel!"_

The horrified cry spilled from me desperately as I skidded and skittered back to gain distance from the wounded and still-thrashing Grimm stomping the street to cratered ruin, eyes going wide at the sight of the Huntsman slumped back over a pile of shattered timber. Unresponsive, and only weakly stirring, stained hair falling about his soot-streaked face.

A few stray sparks of broken Aura crackled along his body at odd intervals, causing muscle spasm. The only sign my partner wasn't dead straight out.

Moreover, his forearm was bent at a strange angle, and bleeding from deep depressions, bone pulled roughly from its socket in a manner enough to make me wince even from this distance.

More out of a sense of anxious resignation rather than sympathy, my own situation far more pressing.

Dead or not, Ambrose was out, that much was clear to anyone... Even a fully-fledged Huntsman at his best would have had a hard time getting up after being tossed around like that, let alone someone hours into a fight and on his last legs.

 _'Focus on the now! **FOCUS!** '_

What did that mean in the now? Think logically, work the problem out...

Like the fact that if Joel couldn't be counted on to fight. That left me - along with a near-hysterical Faunus - to contend with this mess.

"Look, you need to break for the inn! I'll cover you best I can, but... _Eh!?_ "

A Faunus who had tossed aside that ridiculous broom of hers, tearing at the the hem of her tunics flowing skirts to free her legs up before sprinting full speed for the prone Huntsman.

" _Thom!_ Hold on, I'm coming!"

" _H-hey!_ What do you think you're doing!? Get back here!"

The idiotic Snake girl ignored me; of course she did. Giving no thought at all to the Grimm currently shaking its head out in bleating agony, eyes refocusing, seeking out any trace movement. A new target, like a little girl making herself so painfully noticeable. All while I was unarmed...

 _'Damn it all... **Seriously!?** '_

I bit back an ardent curse at the barmaid's foolishness, a glint of cerulean-tinged length of silver catching my attention.

 _Storm Song,_ the sword embedded deep in the ground mere feet away, humming softly with ambient charge that seemed to cut through the Grimm's manic howling and thrashing.

Almost like it was calling out to be held once more, as though it could sense the fight wasn't yet done.

Weird... but it _was_ a weapon, after all, and it was a damn sight better than some stupid broom...

I heard a hissing growl, my head snapping back to see the Bies' sole remaining eye spinning madly in its socket until snapping to focus on Asagi's sprinting form. Its antlered head cricked and cracked, mouth open wide. Far wider than it should have been able to, almost like it was dislocating its own jaw with the effort.

Spit oozed free from between teeth broken by Joel's earlier attacks and the Grimm's slavering tongue to pool in the snow at its feet, the dark, vicious liquid hissing while it burned and sizzled through to the dirt beneath. My nose curled at the acrid tang of it.

 _'Acid spit, too. Great...'_

This was exactly why I hated fighting Grimm. They were seemingly endless, no matter how many you took down, and always with some new horror around the corner.

I should cut it and run. Hide out in one of the tertiary buildings, and wait for this blasted night - and the trouble that had come with it - to blow over and...

" _Hey! Hey, Ugly! Over here!_ "

The words echoed above the fires and the distant sounds of fighting from the walls, amplified further by a straining burst of Semblance-driven fury. I projected anger, resentment, and all the negativity I could muster, hoping to draw the Grimm's attention before it could pounce on Asagi.

And it worked. Oh yes, it did, at that.

The lone burning stare swiveled to see me standing beside it, all alone in my stained and tattered tunic, hair and face an absolute mess, arm quivering with the effort of wrapping a stiff fingered hand about _Storm Song's_ hilt.

"Yeah, that's right! Pay attention to me, you bastard! C' _MON!_ "

Touching the sword felt... weird, to say the least. Even through the numbing sensation of the Brands, I could feel this sort of... Hmm, I couldn't really find a word to describe it other than as a sort of " _pulse._ "

It was a strange sensation. One that tickled its way up my nerve endings until I could taste ozone, teeth rattling in my gums like I'd tried to chew tin foil. Not necessarily unpleasant, but far from comfortable.

Of course, all I could really do was grimace and bear with the discomfort as I drew the shifting weapon from the ground. My foe reeling back a step, a low growl that I could feel reverberating in my chest welling up in its throat. A small victory.

It recognized the weapon that had hurt it, but somehow I doubted that caution would last.

I had to use both trembling hands to grasp the sword - the only way I could guarantee I wouldn't drop it outright - which would just be embarrassing. My leaden arms working into something resembling a stance, despite not being able to rise much higher than my chest. A weight was bearing down on me, muscles screaming in protest.

 _'How did Joel use this thing!? So stupid and heavy...'_ All the while contemplating what was very likely the stupidest, and not to mention last, idea I'd ever have.

And so I stood, resolute and dug in while the Grimm lumbered around slowly, far slower than I knew it could move. It was stalking me like the alpha predator it was, rearing back tall on its hind hooves, now easily more than half the size of the _Amber Fox_ behind me, and outlined by the fires until it was little more than an antlered giant of dark provenance.

Terrified screams and whimpers echoed from inside, villagers glancing between boarded up windows at their deaths, their fear only drawing it closer.

And I couldn't blame them, gulping back a tremor of what was almost certainly fear, keeping my legs still and steady, ready to move if I had to. And from the way it was sizing me up, its masked head gnashing at the air, that time was going to be sooner rather than later.

I wasn't going to give in. Not Elizabeth Briar! If this thing wanted a bite, it'd have to work for it!

" _Come and get me, Ugly! Yeah, I'm talking to you!_ "

Gods, I was dumb... And dead.

The Bies cocked its head at the screaming ant before it, reaching an arm almost lazily out towards me, long, nailed fingers grasping greedily to scoop me up, filling my vision until its palm covered everything else, and all I saw was black...

And then - in an instant - a meaty _*thunk,*_ and all of a sudden my view was clear.

What's more, the Grimm was retreating backwards in a mad, rolling scramble, clawing at its arm furiously, or, more accurately, the object buried up to the hilt in the crook of its elbow where forearm met bicep.

A simple woodcutter's ax, charged through to the core with Aura, thrown overhand with enough force to miraculously pierce the Grimm's hide, and bury itself in the muscle.

 _'But... No, that would mean...!?'_

I blinked away the shock, turning my head slowly to regard the tall figure rising unsteadily to his feet, lowering the good arm he'd used to throw the ax, and brushing wood chips from his clothes with the help of a stunned Asagi, who was caught looking between the man and the monster, admiration warring with disbelief. Disbelief I shared.

 _'Joel!? But... But **how...!?** '_

No, I knew how, even if I still couldn't explain it after all these years. Ambrose was a tough bastard. _"As durable as a brick and twice a thick,"_ as Marigold used to put it, always with that sly grin.

But something felt... off; _strange._ A feeling I couldn't quite...!?

"Thom, what are you...? H-hey, you shouldn't be moving...!?"

The Snake Faunus had tried to reach out a helping hand to the Huntsman, only to bring it to her mouth in stark gasping horror, tears budding in those reptilian eyes of hers at the sound of Joel wrenching his dislocated arm back into place.

A wet _*pop*_ of joints and shifting bone that made even me wince, knowing that pain well enough, but Joel didn't even seem to react in the slightest. Rather, those stormy blue eyes just stared in wide-eyed amazement at the limb through a tangled mess of hair hanging before his face and shoulders, flexing fingers experimentally.

"Csymman dryh Ni rubat..." The Frontiersman muttered softly in blank amazement, stretching and twisting animatedly. His words only carrying because I was so transfixed by the sight, "...a bic kelir ganar du canja, Ni kiacc."

Okay, Frontier-speak. Weirder...

He held the limb up to his face, as though seeing clearly for the first time, a toothy grin so familiar and yet so different from any other expression I could remember seeing from Joel spreading across his features as he waved it about. Swaying, jumping about in place from leg to leg in a very un-Joel-like manner. Patting himself down as though checking he still had everything attached.

A strangely " _feral_ " thing, almost gleeful in its innocence. Completely at odds with the usual cool confidence I was used to seeing, or even the rarer excited adrenaline-fueled battle rush.

"T-Thom?"

Almost as quickly as it had come, however, the smile vanished, his head turning so quickly to regard the sniffling Faunus beside him, I feared he might snap his own neck. And it certainly made the girl flinch back in alarm.

Especially when he leaned in closer, a touch of concern present in the expression...and sniffed.

"Hu daync, gala." The grin returned, more subdued now, comforting in a curious way neither I nor Asagi could describe properly.

Well, I could... _Wait!_

 _Flirting!?..._ He was flirting, right now!?

Joel reached up a gloved hand to cup the Faunus' cheek tenderly, the girl leaning into the gesture as if on instinct, seeking out the touch despite herself with a blushing involuntary hiss.

And gods damn him, he grinned all the broader for it, chuckling under his breath while licking his lips, as if tasting the air. Right before clapping her shoulder with a barking laugh, standing tall and reassured.

" _Nazuela!_ Ibic cuyir a tuur at nasaspan! _Akan_ ec rana _!_ "

Frankly, it was fucking infuriating, a well of heat touching my face at the sight of that... that idiot flirting, after everything he'd told me earlier about feeling guilty; about Xiao Long and all that other emotional garbage! Made all the worse, especially when the _Bies_ was still at large.

Speaking of which, our Grimm friend had finally worked the ax out it seemed, gouging a good measure of its arm along with it. Its hate-filled eye was fixed on the Huntsman, just as confused as the rest of us to see the prey it had thought finished up and about.

Confusion that could only grow when the Huntsman began to... began to...?

 _'Wha...!? **What the hell is he DOING!?** '_

Stripping. The idiot was actually _stripping_ all the way down to his jeans, even kicking off his boots!

Shoving his armored jacket and woolen shirt into a now-thoroughly red-faced Asagi Azeri's shaking hands. Her complexion paling somewhat to my own vindictive, deep-seated pleasure at the patchwork tapestry of scar tissue usually kept safely out of view.

Hinted at, but rarely shown off due to some ingrained complex of Ambrose's, no doubt. The one part of himself he didn't like showing off, either out of shame, or some other deep-seated disgust I could never quite be certain.

No sign of that here, though, the youth's muscled torso and arms rippling in the firelight for all to see. Though he did pause for a moment while tugging at the scarf hanging about his neck, that last gift from Xiao Long I'd never seen him far from since.

For a moment, it actually seemed the young man was fighting himself, a low growl spilling from his lips in protest while trying to force the hand into action.

" _Aaaahhh!_ Ibac's paddan." He groaned when he finally - and rather unceremoniously - yanked the offending piece of material off, and tossed it over Asagi's startled head, obscuring her vision, the girl letting out a brief, short-lived squeak at the world going dark , her last sight that reassuring wolfish smile. "Tuh'd nari."

More words in that curious language, but the meaning behind them was clear enough. The barmaid halted in her attempts to uncover herself, trusting in the Huntsman moving away from her, his pace a steady loping gait.

His hands calmly tugged a length of cord from his pocket, moving to the unkempt hair about his shoulders.

It was in that moment I was certain the Grimm would lunge forward, its jaw unhinged, and snap one or both of those ridiculous fools up in one acidic bite. But it didn't, every muscle in its massive body tensed to the breaking point. And then I realized why Joel had covered Asagi's eyes the way he had.

So she be spared having see his own.

It wasn't even so much that he stared down a Grimm that had only minutes before sent him flying, it was _how_ he did it.

A cold, unblinking stare laced with Aura and menace transfixed the great beast, similar perhaps to the effect my own Semblance might hold if far more focused, the beast actually backing off as he approached.

Even as I watched, sword in hand, I found myself unable to move, breathe, or even look away, as if in doing so, I would be turning away from some great predator an instant before the kill.

It was a sight that would bend most souls, and in the back of my mind, I wondered if it was a look that _had._ The sort of stare a hound might give its cornered prey before the teeth sunk into flesh.

It almost seemed to say _"You're already dead, I just haven't bothered killing you yet. Give me a minute, scum. I'll get around to it."_

My knees shook, and _Storm Song_ quivered ever so slightly, grip tightening around the hilt despite the pain the motion sent shooting down my arms. I couldn't help myself, staring at Joel striding out to meet the monster, half naked in all his scarred glory, yet seemingly untouched by the cold. White bangs whipping about his face, the rest schooled back into a wild tail at the back of his scalp in a primitive style.

" _Oui vyla Akan be te Lmyhc Safehold, Cuimmacc!_ " Ambrose called out grandly in an exhalation of pure, arrogant challenge, spreading his arms wide open, and allowing whatever spell he'd cast to break. My legs tumbled out from beneath me the moment it did, feeling as jelly beneath my weight, _Storm Song_ held out before me to steady myself as I cursed low under my breath, trying not to vomit up what festival food I'd wolfed down earlier. " _Fryd buun vundiha vun oui!_ " he added almost as an afterthought, shooting the Bies with what was perhaps the cheekiest smirk I'd ever seen grace those full lips.

His body swiftly descended to crouch forward in a three point stance, legs bent wide, one hand digging into the ground, the other raised behind him fingers flexing in anticipation. On some level, I could feel the power in the form, the Aura pulsing about his body in flickers of wild blue, digging deep into the ground.

I couldn't believe it. _'Does that idiot actually think he's going to charge **head on** at...!?'_

No, not " _think._ " That would be far too generous a notion, I expected.

The godsdamned idiot actually howled some wordless shout of purest joy as he sprinted forth with alarmingly terrible force, the points of contact at his arms and feet shattering in violent sprays of debris that made Asagi cry out in alarm, and seek to shield herself. So bloody fast was he, it was faster than I might have believed possible, even for someone like Joel. Moving as though freed from gravity, low to the ground, and practically clawing at the air, perhaps seeking to find purchase.

He'd already half-closed the distance in the time it took me to blink, and was growing steadily closer, hair whipping like an actual tail behind him.

With a bellowing bleating roar of challenge at the irritant, the Grimm pounced into motion just as violently, if not more so, forcing me to shield myself as the force of its movement washed over me in a spray of icy crystals and dirt chips.

Joel didn't care, laughing like some madman, or so I thought heard over the crash of the absolute monster sprinting to meet him halfway, tongue tasting the air like an animal, noth Huntsman and Grimm tearing furrows in the ground as they moved.

"Joel, _ah...!_ What are you thinking!? You can't...!"

It didn't make sense. Joel was direct, sure, but this was insane, even for him! No attempt at finding cover, or moving to distract. Just a simple, headlong charge right in.

And perhaps even more alarming, I realized with an expletive that might have had even Marigold boxing my ears, the former Trapper wasn't even paying attention to the Grimm, but fixed on me. The bastard shooting a wry wink my way that, despite everything, made my cheeks burn.

The Grimm had no such concerns, lashing outward with a clawed hand that was aimed at tearing the Huntsman in half with one proper blow. Joel didn't even attempt to dodge as he looked calmly into the face of the oncoming death. Unfazed, evidently expecting something while glancing up above the Grimm's head.

Something that didn't happen, Aura cascading in a wave of protesting, strange crimson-tinged sparks that threw the man off balance. His once solid step faltered, much to my horror.

" _Fryd!_?" His eyes barely had time to widen in marked confusion before he vanished in a sweep of dust kicked up by the blow, the Bies lunging past in a rolling tumble trying to reorient itself.

For a moment, I thought that might have been the end of it, my heart skipping a beat until I saw a now-thoroughly dust-covered Joel rolling from the debris cloud opposite the thoroughly furious Grimm, shaking himself out like some dog. He'd somehow managed to duck the blow, by little more than a hair, given the windswept look of him.

Not that he seemed to care, the youth kicking back into a low crouch, staring between his still sparking hands and the Grimm before him with bemused resignation, looking if nothing else a little put off.

" _Ah!_ Fnuhk dinui?" he grumbled under his breath, perking up an eyebrow as a stray red-tinged spark almost zapped him in the eye. "Jii ibac's shi trikar'la."

Shrugging, the Huntsman clapped the sparking hand against his forehead before chuckling a barking laugh through the annoyance. "Cu, te urakto ara bic cuyir, drah. Su'vih."

That silly, unfamiliar grin again, as if he'd just told some brilliant joke only he knew the punchline to. So annoying... Probably why I kicked him across the back of the head, and sent him rolling forward back onto his ass into the dirt and mud with a startled yelp that _almost_ made me feel guilty.

"Cutting it just a little close, don't you think!?"

"...?"

No, Joel wasn't thinking, at least not about how close he'd come to getting splattered at any rate. I wanted to keep up the pressure, maybe throw my Semblance around for some cold emphasis, but to my own annoyance, I couldn't work up the concentration.

 _'Or the nerve...'_ my mind tacked on traitorously, a suppressed shiver working its way down my spine.

For an instant - less than a heartbeat's span as Joel looked back over his shoulder to see what or who had hit him - I'd frozen up. That same cold certainty and menace I'd felt bleeding off him before returned, his lips curled back from his teeth in a silent predatory snarl. And then... a raised eyebrow?

"Any more brilliant plans, Moron!?" I shook my head out and continued my tirade, very much aware of the Bies regarding us, its eye fixed on the man who'd cheated death at its hands a second time in the same night. "Maybe you wanna try arm wrestling with it next, since you're feeling so damn tough!?... _Well, Stupid!?_ "

No response, at least not immediately. Instead, the young man just stared at me headlong, but not in the manner he normally did. Suppressed irritation pulled at his jaw, a twitch over the brow as though readying himself for a blow that might come; a wariness in his eyes that belied the respect I knew lay beneath.

Joel had his layers and barriers - his ticks and his quirks - just like every other soul alive. I took a fair bit of pride in knowing that I had a read on this particular Son of Bastion that few alive could claim. Just like, as much as I absolutely refused to admit, Joel could pick me apart at a glance. How he could always see through my disguises and tricks, and catch a glimpse of the real me... and not just the "me" I liked to show off to the rest of the world.

Despite that, Joel Ambrose had never looked at me like this, appraising me. Picking me apart hungrily. At least not so completely. Maybe in preparation for a spar, or during our... "spats," but not like like _this._

Completely at odds with the dopey looks from before, his expression was tactical, eyes finding the lingering bruises visible through tears in my clothes. The half-healed cuts, the shakiness in my arms even as they did their best to hold his sword aloft.

Any and all weaknesses and openings to exploit in mere moments.

His mind working feverishly behind those stormy blues. It was terrifying, and frankly embarrassing, in a way...

And then that wolfish expression I was quickly beginning to swiftly associate with my mounting blood pressure crept back on his lips, along with a shake of the head that flicked some loose bangs from his eyes in a manner that was just a little too rehearsed. "Hu fuhtan ra kaysh gar."The words were absolutely dripping with mirth, and then a flicker of incomprehension. "Bal gar dumanyda dra Bib?"

"Uh... Excuse me?"

Again, that silly, incomprehensible mumbling. The Huntsman kicked back to his feet in a hunched stance, legs spread, and arms limp, committing to a series of intakes and exhales that set his scarred chest rising and falling in a slow steady rhythm. One of his meditations maybe...?

"Talk sense, or don't talk at all! Just kill that thing, will you!?" I growled low and scathing in the way that usually sent him squirming or seething. No such luck, the man's brow furrowing as though trying to piece together what I'd said. "Damn it, Ambrose, stop playing around!"

He seemed to get the gist of it after that, I think, snapping a fist to his chest, and absolutely brimming with giddy anticipation and an easy confidence. As though this monster hadn't sent him flying once, and almost pulverized him soon afterwards. Not the enduring confidence of a Trapper, this feeling more assured.

Joel believed he was going to win. Utterly, and without the slightest shred of doubt. Didn't matter he was half naked and unarmed...

 _'_ _Right, have to give him his sword...'_

I offered him _Storm Song_ hilt first, like you're supposed to in all the movies, or I tried.

Suffice it to say, between the tingling ache in my muscles and the sword's strange... whatever it was, the motion wasn't entirely graceful. The silver length almost slipped free from my grasp in my fumbling insistence, though Joel hardly even seemed to notice, intent wholly on the Grimm now, staring it down once again.

Considering how the thing had all but been glued to my partner at the hip for the last few weeks - longer even - the fact he'd completely glossed over it now - in an actual fight, no less - was a concern all by itself.

"Sienna! What's the matter with Thom!?" Asagi wailed from behind the broken wood pile, finally having extracted herself from the Joel's clothes, and gotten into some sensible cover. Not great, of course, seeing as she was poking her head out like an actual snake, trying to sneak a view. "He's acting so...!"

Weird? Ridiculous? _Insane!?_

All probably good guesses, given how the night was turning out. A dance and shameless flirting, I could manage that. Bounty Hunters and a public unmasking? Ha, no problem! Grimm attack with my Dust and body all but out of commission?... Okay, bit worrying. Joel obviously hitting his head and breaking his mind? Well...

Sadly I'd never hear her exact phrasing, Joel's burst into sudden and all too violent action enough to pop my sensitive eardrums, clawing his way into another charge, though this one was far more familiar, if in reason and not style.

The Grimm lunged forward to meet him in another frenzy, lashing out with probing swipes and crushing hammer blows that shattered the landscape. Not that it's opponent was any less wild, if far more focused then before. No laughter this time, or showing off for... an audience? The Frontiersman's motions blended into shearing feints that tore the ground itself up up with fits of Aura-propelled action, and sent the Bies lurching or hounding after every perceived trajectory.

The Huntsman's true path was far more graceful. Leaping flips and side long bounds of insane grace - even for a prodigy like Joel - carrying him slowly but steadily further and further into the Grimm's guard.

Asagi gaped in wide-eyed amazement, likely only seeing a maddened flurry of Grimm-flesh and white haired intent.

Untrained, she didn't know where to look, every time a claw or a tooth came within arm's length of her defender and crush denied was reason to gasp, cry out, or shield her gaze. But I knew better. This wasn't dodging. _This_ was guiding. Not so much a fight as it was a hunt.

Predator and prey. And for the first time all night, the Grimm was sitting squarely in the latter, while the warrior a third of its size, if that, was very, _very_ much the former.

Contrary to popular belief, Grimm _could_ feel fear. Not terror, in so much as those with souls perceived it, but the shadow spawn did have some form of self-preservation. A will to survive - to thrive and get stronger - so that they might hunt again, which meant avoiding or fleeing perceived threats, of which Joel - however it was that he pulled off this miracle - most certainly counted.

A heavily muscled arm pulverized a tiny cottage to splinters, forcing me to duck back, _Storm Song_ clattering to the ground. Joel took the opportunity to dart forward in between the Bies' hind legs, two sharp jabs to both limbs sounding off with the thunder crack of shattering bones a moment later, flesh blowing out the back on the opposite side in welters of dark matter.

A booming _*CLAP-CRACK*_ of stomping leaps only opening up its back, my partner scaling his opponent in moments with a series of leaps, darting in between razor sharp antlers, and delivering an Aura-fueled stomping blow to the back of its skull with his bare heel, putting the Grimm face forward into the ground mewling, and driving a whole new crater into the face of street. Both his bare foot and the Grimm's head sparked with Auratic energy that shattered antlers like glass tines, and set diamond snow dust reeling through the air in gusting torrents.

And he kept it up, somersaulting off the skull to land before its face, grabbing an antler in one hand, and dragging its face back into the dirt before a vicious haymaker, sending it stumbling back from the impact, its face a cratered mess of breaks and shattered fangs.

I'd seen Joel fight directly, but this?... This was _insanity._

And that style, pulsing Aura into his every blow at the last possible moment, only to detonate within the target with explosive force? I'd seen Marigold use something similar. More than once on Joel himself, but this wasn't that.

The Bies, thoroughly squealing in pain now, lurched back and swept its claw across the ground with a scream the shook me to my bones and set my head pounding. The sheer force shattered the stone and hard-packed dirt, and threw it together in a rushing torrent of rubble and snow set to bury the Huntsman, and a good section of the Inn and myself as well, blackening out the shattered moonlight.

Impossible to avoid in time, my mouth dry...

Fortunately for me and the screaming occupants trapped inside the _Fox,_ Joel was prepared for even that, kneeling quickly in the shadow of oncoming death with his arms positively wreathed in shimmering blue Aura, a wild howl tearing free from his lips as he clapped his hands.

The sound, combined with a rapid drop in air pressure, made me wince, ears popping.

Instantly a curious pulse - focused and intense in a way that made my heart rate rise, and set the taste of aluminum and ozone on my tongue - pierced the heart of the tide, and blew it apart in the big bastard's face in a shower of crackling sparks that sent dirt raining as far as I could see, even smothering a few fires in the process.

Vaguely, I noticed Asagi drop, her body unable to handle the sudden elemental assault, frayed nerves finally taking their toll after such a wild night.

"Cu... dra Bib _tuac_ ganar bufan."

The Huntsman staggered to his feet, looking somewhat off balanced, glancing at his twitching hands - which swiftly clenched into fists - as though they were a pair of brand new toys. Two of the most beautiful implements imaginable, and he longed to try them out, skin practically blue with electrical discharge, and the glowing outline of internal limiters.

Bleeding from over a dozen cuts, limbs creaking or outright broken under the strain, the Grimm threw itself forward desperately, its own fist shaped into a claw, and out to crush the Huntsman before he could recover.

Moving _exactly_ as my partner had thought it would, at least going by the beaming smile cutting through the grime and stray bangs of dirtied white.

" _Kala!_ "

Seeing his chance, Joel had darted forward, leaping clear just when it seemed he was about to be crushed and sprinting a few sure steps, kicking off and driving both legs into its masked face. Again, another jolt of energy, cracks spider-webbing off the skull-faced goat's head originating at the points of contact. The monster itself was stumbling back using its forearms for support, bleating piteously for such a large creature.

It was almost sad. Right up until I remembered it would have killed me and just about everyone else in this village only minutes before had Joel not reduced it to this.

 _'What is he...? Is he looking at **me!?** '_ He was, at that, gesticulating wildly towards my feet.

No... At the sword lying at my feet.

" _Kala!_ " An order I couldn't understand, but one I strained to follow... or I thought I was.

"R-right!" Why he wasn't just saying " _Sword!_ "or " _Weapon, please!_ "was nagging at me. An annoying tick in an otherwise desperate situation swiftly being overtaken by sheer awe. "Coming your way! Heads up!"

Hooking my foot underneath the blade, I flung the weapon end over end in the Huntsman's general direction. Far from perfect, but when the spinning weapon fell, Joel was somehow there to catch it, rolling to the side to snatch the sword from the air before hurtling skyward in a single great bound. Sword mecha-shifting to spear form in his hand as the other pointed to the lone glowing eye seated in a brutalized skull, jaw opening wide to spit the shattered remains of teeth.

In that moment, I saw skin bared to the elements, hair whipping about his face, eyes wide with an anticipation and sheer excitement I'd never seen in any man let alone a soul like Ambrose.

A joy of an experience long denied, and finally brought forth once more.

Silver streaked across the sky as a comet, a javelin shimmering with fluctuating blue sparks of electricity that struck the Bies dead on, and trailed through while its slain target faded into dark matter, and then to nothingness in it's wake.

It's killer landed hard, standing slowly to his full intimidating height, glaring at the spot the creature had just vacated, an unreadable expression on his face.

And then of course... came the celebration.

" _JELDUNO!_ "

A cry - more a howl - split the night, making me jump from the sheer magnitude of it. The boy was exultant, smacking his head playfully. " _Teth'd Ni rejorhaa'ir gar, Bib? Draar tuipd, te uidlusa an a landyeh!_ "

Raucous, full-bodied, barking laughter shook him seemingly to his bones. So much so, he had to put his hands on his knees to steady himself. Such a pure sound, sounding so familiar, yet deep down, I knew I'd never heard anything of the like in all my years of knowing Ambrose.

It hurt. Not as much as it might have once, but it did. Of course, I was too smart to let it show, assuming the mask, shoring up the cracks as I approached cautiously.

Perhaps too cautiously, but I was still remembering the way he'd stared down the Grimm. Though the way he was now...

"Joel, t-that... That was amaz... _Ahem_!" A quick cough to kill the hoarseness in my tone, the Huntsman wiping tears from his eyes to admire me more clearly... Wait, what? "What I meant to say was...Where in the gods' names did you learn to move like that? You've been holding out on me."

"..."

"That thing you did with your Aura, funneling it like that. Something you picked up at Beacon, or was it another one of those fancy new tricks you've been working on in secret?"

"...Cilr y mujamo jorad. At pamea y cdnahkdr nynamo caah eh drec o'r ibic ca'nara be Biba..."

He cricked his neck with a loud _*POP,*_ yanking _Storm Song_ free from the ground where it had landed and spinning it casually with no small amount of whistling flourish before settling it firmly on his shoulders.

Something about the way he looked me up and down, licking his lips and tasting the air, as though debating something...

" _Ni guuror kaysh!_ "

"Okay, I get it. _Ni guurah-whatsit_ to you, too, Joel. Ha-ha, fight's over. You can start speaking normal aga...!?"

Had he he always so close? A second ago, I'd thought there'd been a few yards between us. When did he suddenly get in my face? He seemed bigger, too. More raw, primal, and with so much skin showing...!?

N-no, I couldn't back down, so instead I puffed out my chest and stood up to my full height, even if doing so made me feel like I was sizing up against an Ursa. A half-naked, slightly sparking Ursa.

The big lug had to remember his place once in a while, after all. One Fiend killed, a town saved, and suddenly he'd start thinking _he_ was in charge. Fat chance...

"...Ra cuyir pa syt."

"Enough of that already! I've told you a dozen times by now, I can't understand a lick of that Frontier garbage!"

I wanted to jab him in his dumb, shirtless chest. Shove him back, and make a point. But with my arms the way they were, I had to settle for headbutting him there instead to put him back a few paces. Bad idea, like knocking my skull against a brick wall, and he hardly even budged.

In fact, he seemed downright amused, muttering some more of that annoying savage-speak.

" _Grrr..._ Ambrose, look, you're seriously freaking me out! What's the matter with... Joel?"

Now that he was so close that I could make out his posture - his eyes meeting mine properly for the first time - I finally noticed, and felt the hairs on my neck stand on end, heart skipping a beat. That stance, the mannerisms by which he held himself, that predatory gleam in his gaze combined with an age that was unmistakable as it was terrible... It was all of it Joel's body. But...

"No... You're not Joel." I finally worked up the courage to speak as the thing wearing Joel grinned once more, and leaned so close I could feel the static cling of his skin combined with something almost like musk, voice catching in my throat...

"Who...? What are yo...!? _M_ _mph!_ "

Warmth blossomed across my face unbidden as his lips - _Joel's_ lips - caught mine, a hand gently but firmly caressing my cheek as he drew me in close. A heat that coursed across my face, down my neck to my chest, all the way to my fingers and toes...

It was quite unlike any kiss I'd ever had... I found myself melting into his embrace with a low moan of contentment, eyes fluttering, swept up in the dynamism of the mo...

 _HOLD THE FUCK ON!_

A different sort of heat flared up now, hot and furious. Burning across swiftly reddening, snarling features right before I slammed my head forward again, this time cracking against his own, and earning a startled yelp of pain and surprise. _Good._

" _Ack!_ What the...!? _Liz?!_ "

Joel rocked back on his heels, suddenly far less poised as his weapon glowed softly, a hand slowly going to caress the swiftly-swelling bump that now graced his cheek, staring at me as though I'd gone insane.

Looking around everywhere - at the inn, at the prone Asagi now barely beginning to stir, the distinct lack of killer Grimm - incomprehension slowly began dawning across his dumbstruck, idiotic, big stupid face.

"B-but I was... I-I thought...! Are you...!? Wait, what are you...!?"

He never got the question out, an ax kick already coming down on his head like a guillotine, Joel so groggy, he didn't even remember to cry out until his face was buried in the dirt. And I wasn't done, my heel crashing into the back of his head again, and again, and again, and _AGAIN...!_

On and on it went, right up until I was driven off in a steaming haze by the cries of victory from the walls, the sound of others drawing closer to investigate, me not wanting to cause any more of an incident. So I left, leaving a thoroughly battered Ambrose in my wake, nose turned up, face so hot I was surprised I wasn't on fire.

"Wh-What did I do?..."

I certainly wasn't going to answer, having more important things to do after all.

The Old Fox had been rather clear on that point. The town was saved. Now... Now it was time to start packing...

 _'...Packing, right after a nice cold bath.'_

Right... That sounded just lovely.

* * *

 _ **-Asagi Azeri-**_

"So... they're really leaving, then?"

Anbā merely grunted in wordless acknowledgement, gazing down from her perch on the upper landing, her ears twitching. She was staring out the windowsill at the pair of youths moving about by the shed down below.

Thom... No, _Joel,_ I suppose I should get used to calling him, was dragging a heavily customized motorbike into the light. From the noise, I could only imagine he was enduring yet another steady barrage of verbal abuse at the hands of Sienna - no, _Elizabeth_ \- with the usual stoicism I'd come to admire him for.

 _'And not just that...'_ my mind finished traitorously, wandering back to the terrifying scene the night before.

The Huntsman leading Akai-Hana's defense even after the town's people had all but turned on him, standing tall against the might of the Grimm alongside former enemies, and, against all odds, somehow managing to emerge victorious despite being knocked low. Seeming in that final moment against that monster to be so indomitable, so courageous... and yet that had also been quite the wake up call for myself.

Years of wanting to see the world for myself to get out from this village's oppressive borders and explore new horizons... and last night, I almost lost it all when the world sought to come in and rip it all apart. A violent place full of monsters that roamed the shadows, seeking to snap up the unwary, and extinguish Mankind's light just as all the stories said.

That was Joel's world, and I didn't belong in it... And to my own surprise, I was fine with that, after a fashion.

It hurt, but I would recover from this and be stronger for it, just as the rest of the village would in time. Reconstruction were efforts already underway, with the whole town coming together and more, Rouge's men proving invaluable in that regard, and not just in manpower, something about always being on the move inspiring numerous ways to deal with housing large numbers on short notice.

The _Amber_ _Fox_ was the broadest building still standing, but even the venerable inn would have struggled to house all those disenfranchised in the wake of the assault. Reparations for their part in the chaos, and the catalyst for an unspoken agreement between bandit and Trapper. The former would ignore the latter's bounty for a time - a short time - and the latter had best be gone by the time he started caring once more.

"They really aren't even going to say goodbye?"

I looked back to the table I'd spent the last five minutes wiping away at absently, trying hard to keep the emotion from the words. Of coursel Anbā knew. The old fox had a way about her, even if I'd learned a few of her tells in turn. A small part of her was relieved to see the back of the two warriors, that much I knew, though I couldn't say she was entirely happy about it.

More... resigned, in a way.

"I don't know. It doesn't feel right. Does it?"

"What'd you expect, girl? A fond farewell? Tears and hugs?"

I winced, not having expected an actual response to the question, seeing as she hadn't bothered answering any of the others. Her tone was sharp, too, but lacking in its usual bite, and sounding if anything almost weary.

No surprises there. The old woman had been scrambling throughout the night to get folks moving about and helping once the Grimm had scampered. That she was awake at all was practically a miracle in and of itself.

"Those two might've done their parts to aid us when we needed it, but now that the danger's passed, people are going to remember exactly what it was that started this whole mess in the first place." I opened my mouth to retort, only to clamp it shut at a glare from the Fox. "Yes, I know it wasn't really their fault. but better to see the back of them before some of the folks around here get over being thankful for their lives, and start their grumbling about the roofs over their heads... or lack of them. Understand?"

If Anbā had asked me that sort of question a few days ago, I would have likely had no idea how to respond, and might have even laughed it off as one of the bar mistress' odd musings. Now, though, after seeing the darker side of just how tenuous the balance in this town was, and what paranoia and fear could push people to?...

"...I understand, sure, but that doesn't mean they have to just leave like this. So abruptly, I mean."

More than half the night spent fighting monsters - from the myriad drones, to the Bies leading the assault itself - Thom... _Darn it!_ _Joel_ ought to be resting in bed recovering, not preparing for what was sure to be an arduous journey. Just because the seasons changed didn't mean the dangers were any less real. But off he goes, as though he hadn't been pummeled within an inch of his life.

He'd even cleaned the room after packing up what meager supplies they could scrounge up on such short notice, the space barren as though its previous occupants had never even existed.

"It's not very fair."

"Things in life are hardly ever fair, girl. That's fortune for you, fickle thing it is." Anbā motioned towards the wall of photos, an unspoken order for me to tend to the recorded memories as she sought to instruct. "No use complaining about it. Can't imagine those two do, even with the hand they've probably been dealt with. Remember what they are."

What they _were,_ she meant, And how could I forget, even if I still had some trouble believing it?

I'd gone to the Festival of Lights with a Trapper. One of the Red Hand's trained killers, and a famous one, at that. According to what Rouge had said, the youth had come here all the way from Beacon and fallen Vale. Moreover, he'd been there when the city had fallen, which was no doubt why he'd fought so hard to save us.

"They should have time to at least say something. Really, shouldn't _we_ say something!?"

Not that I knew what I'd say that hadn't already been said by the host of stunned defenders who'd cheered in teary-eyed joy when they'd seen Joel stumbling back to the wall, still off balanced from his fight, but standing nonetheless. A fact that could only mean the monster threatening their homes and loved ones had been taken care of.

That I forgave him for lying? _'As if I have any right to judge, knowing his story...'_

That I wasn't afraid of him? _'_ _Thing is, nice or not, he's still a Trapper...'_

That I hoped to see him again? _'He's got someone waiting for him. I've got no business tying him back here...'_

"I'm sure the boy understands, even without you having to go out there and make a blushing fool of yourself," Anbā chided, reading my mind yet again in that inscrutable way she always did. The way that left me flustered, and pulling my hair over rapidly warming scales, just like now in fact. "Leaving without any warning and without a single word. All to avoid a few sordid farewells... Classic Fortuna play. So dramatic. Probably Miss Briar. Those two think alike." She shook her head with a weak chuckle, her ears twitching as she looked my way. "I've never told you about her, have I? My sister-in-law?"

I shook my head cautiously, not entirely sure what was happening. "N-no, ma'am, you haven't. At least not that I can remember."

"Oh, you'd remember. I promise you that."

The way the words fled from her was odd, almost elated as much as it was a groan. A strange combination, made all the stranger by the distant glint in her eye as she turned away from the pair at last, making her way down to the floor and coming to stop beside me, gazing about the wall fitfully until her stare landed on a particular frame.

Not the largest, and far from the most prominent at a glance, but the longer I stood there, the more I realized how every other photo along the expanse of hardwood had been arranged around that particular image. Years of life in Akai-Hana, dozens of faces, but with three faded visages smack dab in the center of it all, standing outside what was doubtless the _Amber Fox_ still in the early throes of construction.

I immediately recognized Anbā, even though the face looking back at me was easily years younger without the wear of years and stress lining her features, barely older than I was from the looks of it. Smiling mischievously in a way I'd never seen in the flesh alongside a young man impossible to mistake as anyone else but her brother, even without the obvious shared similarity of their fox-like ears.

And between them, arms wrapped about the sibling's shoulders to draw them closer together, was a dark-skinned woman, her hair a wild mess of curled ringlets, amber eyes flashing wickedly atop a pearly white smile.

"I've run this inn for a long time, Asagi, and I've picked up more than my fair share of hard lessons along the way. More than you might expect."

The low hum of a Dust motor revving to life caught my attention, my body unconsciously moving to turn around, only for the older woman to stop me in place, a hand resting firmly on my shoulder.

"The hardest being that this place is rarely ever anyone's destination. That threshold has seen hundreds of faces in its time, and gods be good, it'll see many more. Some might stay for a time, a few might even come back to visit now and again, but rarely is this place anything more than a stop along the way towards destinations we can hardly imagine." She looked at the photo and the faces frozen in time upon it, her expression taking on a solemn air, if strong backed, unbending. In fact she looked a lot like Joel had facing down that Grimm... "It's our job to aid the souls that walk through those doors. To ease their burdens with a hard drink and a soft bed, if needed. To listen to their stories so they might leave their mark, and then to see them on their way. Above all, we don't ever force them to stay if they feel it's their time."

"...And what do we do?" I whispered, knowing the Faunus could hear me regardless, lowering my eyes from the photo. "In the meantime, I mean. While they're gone."

"I'll tell you what we do, girl." She moved the hand, pulling me into a tight hug that had me flustered for a moment, before I finally settled and enjoyed the maternal tenderness for what it was, tears in my eyes and a smile on my face as the sounds of the motorbike grew ever more distant. "We keep the place tidy, and if our weary travelers cross those doors yet again, we greet them with a smile on our faces."

I nodded slowly, clenching me hands into fists, and standing up just a little straighter, doing my best to copy Anbā's own swagger. "We make them feel welcome."

" _Now_ you're getting it. That's my girl." She released her hold, and moved towards the bar, tossing my wash towel back my way without even turning to see if I'd caught it, which I did... Barely. "Now, I want to see my face in those tables, young lady! I won't have those laying louts complaining about a dirty tap room on top of everything else! And those Badlanders, liable to drink me out of..." She stopped, peering over her shoulder to see me staring at her with an awed expression. One that swiftly faded with a snap of her fingers. "Well, you have your job, don't you!? Get to work!"

"Y-yes, ma'am! Right away, ma'am!"

I scrambled to my task, watching the woman retreat behind the counter where she would hopefully be able to get a moment's rest before once more coming out to cement Akai-Hana's cracks. And with a start I realized I wanted to do my best to help her do just that.

This was my world. And I was going to make it shine...

* * *

-END

* * *

 **-Primer-**

 **Csymman dryh Ni rubat... a bic kelir ganar du canja, Ni kiacc. -** Smaller than I hoped... It should serve, I guess.

 **Hu daync, dala. -** No tears, woman.

 **Nazuela! Ibic cuyir a tuur at nasaspan! Akan ec rana! -** Rejoice! This is a day to be remembered! Akan is here!

 **Ibac's paddan. -** That's better.

 **Tuh'd nari. -** Don't move.

 ** _Oui vyla Akan be te Lmyhc Safehold, Cuimmacc!_ \- **_You face Akan of the Safehold Clans, Soulless!_

 ** _Fryd buun vundiha vun oui!_ \- **_What poor fortune for you!_

 **Fryd!? -** What!?

 **Fnuhk dinui? -** Wrong gift?

 **Jii ibac's shi trikar'la. -** Now that's just sad.

 **Cu, te urakto ara bic cuyir, drah. Su'vih. -** So, the hard way it is, then. Fun.

 **Hu fuhtan ra kaysh gar. -** No wonder he favors you.

 **Bal gar dumanyda dra Bib? -** And you tolerate the Pup?

 **Cu...dra Bib _tuac_ ganar bufan. - **So... the Pup _does_ have power.

 ** _Kala!_ \- **_Blade!_

 ** _JELDUNO!_ \- **_VICTORY!_

 ** _Teth'd Ni rejorhaa'ir gar, Bib? Draar tuipd, te uidlusa an a landyeh!_ \- **_Didn't I tell you, Pup? Never doubt, the outcome all but certain!_

 **Cilr y mujamo jorad, at pamea y cdnahkdr nynamo caah eh drec o'r ibic ca'nara be Biba... -** Such a lovely voice. To belie a strength rarely seen in this time of weakling Pups...

 ** _Ni guuror kaysh!_ \- **_I like her!_

 **Ra cuyir pa syt. -** He won'd be mad.

* * *

 **A/N: And that's a wrap for the first arc of AMBR:RtR, just hope the ending was exciting enough. Based the Grimm of a Fiend from the Witcher, guess you can tell what I've been up to these last few weeks.**

 **New job, new schedule, things are a bit hectic. Big thanks to Da-Awesom-One for helping out with revisions to AMBR:FR. Nothing big, mostly Grammer and an updated fight between Raven and Violette.**

 **Story wise you'll probably have noticed Joel, things are sort've coming to a head where he's concerned. How that's gonna go, not even sure I know. Thanks for sticking with the story regardless.**

 **As always feel free to leave notes and reviews, all goes to making the story better. - Mojo**

* * *

 **(Next Chapter: Blind memories** **)**


	22. Chapter 22

_**-AUTHOR'S NOTE-**_

 **Hey all, Mojo here. Due to an unfortunate mix up during updating, the original Chapter 4 of Team AMBR: Road to Reunion was unfortunately lost. I'm searching what files I have now but given I uploaded that chapter months ago I'm not holding out much hope. Thankfully it wasn't a chapter that directly impacts AMBR's story, merely concerning SAND, Sonia Bordeaux, Alexander Capaneus, Natalie Corbell, and Edward "Duo" Briar.**

 **While far from what I would prefer, fortunately it wasn't worse.**

 _ **Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_

* * *

LOOKING BACK

* * *

 _ **-Xiao Hei-**_

 **(Fourteen Years Earlier - Lower Districts, Wind Path - Kingdom of Mistral)**

"Sweetling, I need you to get dressed, right now! Hurry!"

"Mother?... Mother, what's going on? What's happ...!?" I opened my mouth to speak out - to wonder why my mother looked so frightened - only for her to shush me, shoving clothes into my arms.

Something was wrong. Very wrong. Even young as I was at seven years old, I knew that much for sure. Father had always been angry at me for that, seeing so much. Seeing him come home late smelling awful and witness him and Mother arguing late into the night, see him throw objects around in his rage...

She was simply worried about him. She would weep often and say that he didn't trust her, or wasn't speaking as much as he used to. Decrying him for drinking and gambling away what meager Lien they'd managed to scrounge together, or more she had. Father wasn't the one serving in wealthy houses for pittance, running errands for whoever would offer until late into the night, only to come home and care for a son that needed him.

No, he just talked like he did. Insulting her efforts in comparison to his own, saying how it would all be meaningless when the "luck struck him." She would shout some more, rightfully offended. He'd tell her not to be, to stop her tears, which just lead to more arguing... More bad things.

Things a boy shouldn't have to see.

And tonight had been worse than all the others combined, and it had all started with a smile. Xiao Matsu, bursting into the small flat we shared, his swarthy skinned face grinning broadly from ear to ear as he made to embrace his quite - by then, at least - startled wife, sweeping her up into his arms, and declaring boldly that our troubles were a thing of the past.

That had been the first sign of trouble, of course. We didn't have troubles. Difficulties maybe, hardships certainly.

Food was never plentiful. It was hot in the summers and cold in the winters, but Mother always reassured me whenever I asked about them. She'd stroke a hand through my dark curls, promising that as long as she was around, I'd never have to worry.

Matsu was the only one that complained. The only one who spat on our lives...

He ever wanted for more, my father. It made him greedy.

 _'Greedy.'_ I'd learned that word from one of our neighbors, a kindly old woman I only knew as "Granny," who would look after me while Mother was away on errands or working districts away among the upper levels.

In reality, I was the one taking care of her much of the time, especially when her eyes started to go dark. Cooking meals, massaging aching muscles, but she would teach me things. How to read and write like kids in the schools could.

She said I was clever. More so than a boy with only seven years behind him had any right to be.

"That father of yours is a greedy man. It diminishes him." She'd said that rather sternly as well, waggling a reproachful finger around the room blindly, as if the man himself had been standing in the room somewhere. He wanted for too much, and wasn't prepared to truly work for it. It would see us all in trouble one day, mark her words. "Learn from that, little bird. Learn from that, at least, and be better than that coward."

Mother had feigned happiness, just as she often did whenever he'd come home like this, but this time was different.

There was a wariness I noticed, an edge to the smile that had never been there before. Her husband had come home declaring similar things as well, usually after small successes in his games or a spot of good fortune at another's expense.

And they had rarely ended well, for anyone involved.

So when the shouting from the main room became audible to his ears, young Xiao Hei hadn't been surprised, but he had been worried.

"...didn't know that he was _Kage!_ I just thought he... _Ack!?_ "

 _Kage._ A fancy title for the network of thieves, criminals, and murderers who ruled the underbelly of Wind Path. The ones all looking to do business in the lower slums had to deal with, offer tribute for their "protection," or pay the proper consequences for their refusal.

Xiao Matsu had angered them, and had seemingly brought those consequences down upon his family. The fool...

" _You don't think!_ That's always been your...!" Shouting from unfamiliar voices, the whisper of steel meeting air. More begging, more excuses from a man offering what little he had if it would spare his life. "Wretched little...!" More shouting, cries of pain that put tears in his wife's eyes to hear.

This worry was only compounded as Mother pulled up some rotting floorboards to reveal the hidden crawl space leading beneath their hovel, her arms ushering me through, shakily matting down my dark curls as if reluctant to let me go. "It'll be alright, Sweetling. Find an opening and run to Granny's house. You know the way even in the dark, don't you?"

I nodded, once more asking her what was going on. What was happening? She hadn't responded, merely pressing a tear-soaked kiss to my forehead before all but shoving me onto the must, dirt-filled filth underneath our house, motioning for me to be quiet before swiftly covering the opening, leaving me alone in the dark.

I should have called out to her. I wanted to so much, especially as I heard her cries rise beyond that of even my father's now eerily silent after the wet sound of something solid crashing against the floorboards. Mother was pleading, the words too indistinct to be heard, but the sound of another * _THUNK_ * just above me was impossible to miss. Something warm and wet dripping from the cracks as laughter rang out.

To my shame, I ran like a coward. Like my father. Dragging myself from the space, fingernails tearing against the cold dirt, I fled into the night silently sobbing, powerless as the scent of smoke began to tinge the salty air black.

Hours later, I would return, shivering from a night spent facing the winds along the lower cliffs, only to come home to the burnt hovel that was all that remained of my family, the uniformed police scratching their heads over what happened, most with the grin of the resigned.

They knew what had happened. I could see that, too, and they didn't care.

I hated them for that disdain. I hated those that had done this. I hated being weak... I simply _hated._

* * *

 **(Seven Years Earlier - Red Lantern Districts, Wind Path)**

"We got one marked out, all by his lonesome!" Basil called out excitedly to the other urchins at the sight of one of his runners flashing a discreet hand sign from an adjoining ally, the older boy grinning as he made to stand up in hopes of catching a better look at our victim.

"Oh, he looks like a rich one, alright! Fancy clothes and all. From up top, I bet! Get ready!"

" _Keep quiet!_ " I hissed sharply as I made to pull him back down out of sight, realizing my error, and recoiling as Basil's smile vanished off his pock-marked face, now replaced instead by a wicked scowl and a flash of rage. "It's too soon. You'll scare him off...!"

My words had made sense. If the Mark noticed something was off - anything at all - chances were good he'd take another path home from the red light district and the bars he'd likely frequented. That would mean my carefully crafted ambush would be meaningless, our time wasted, and with no Lien or valuables to show for it, which would mean a lot of hungry mouths and beatings when the Kage and their thugs came looking for tribute.

Plus, the whole point of standing up and revealing himself to get a better view of our target was utterly pointless. My... abilities, rough and untrained as they were, were more than up for such a simple task.

Even with my eyes closed I could still "see" the lone figure striding their way confidently down the street from meters away, far detached from the drunken gait most of our targets possessed. Just as I could make out the dozen other figures of varying ages and builds perched along the rooftops at key points across the way on either side of our position, clutching at makeshift weapons nervously in sweaty palms.

It didn't make sense for him to act so recklessly, nor so foolishly.

Still, what did sense matter?

Basil had it in his mind that he was the leader of this little band of ours, our little Guild. The oldest and the biggest, the one those in the city's underbelly favored, or so he believed. That I suppose meant that he was in charge, that he could do what he wants regardless of what his second voiced.

"I don't like his look. We should let this one pass by, wait for another..."

"And lose another night's grub because you're spooked of getting your hands dirty? Don't think so!" The gang leader spat, cutting me off quickly, my retort dying in my throat. It wasn't time to argue, not yet. "Remember Hei-Hei, you don't give the orders! You don't give _me_ orders!"

Such a stupid nickname. Such a stupid little man...

His voice was tight but forceful, designed to make a show to the others. He'd heard the whispering going on behind his back. Knew how popular I was with the other kids, the one that earned their respect and not their fear. The one who could do more in less time, and learn things quickly where he struggled to grasp even the basics. The one blessed with the Huntsman's Aura where his was weak, as much as he claimed otherwise.

An example had to be made.

"This one's different. This is a bad idea!"

"I don't have bad ideas! The rest of you, get ready to move, on my mark!" He waved to the others with a tight series of coordinated signs, each youth responding in turn and moving to take up different positions. "And _you!_ "

I knew what was going to happen, of course, as a result from my outburst. Seven long years slumming my way through the ranks of half a dozen small groups of similarly wayward children and young adults had taught me that much. First as a spotter - a "Small" - picking out law enforcement, and passing signals using my size to remain anonymous, and better navigate the winding alleys.

Soon finding myself indebted and working under the Kage and the other key players of Wind Path's underworld in a bid just to survive the frigid nights. My boyish features hardened into sharpened relief that had brought their own fair bit of notice, my reed thin arms giving way to developing thin lengths of corded muscle, my mind learning the subtle ways needed to prosper in a world that gives you nothing over the years.

Years spent growing bigger, smarter, and stronger.

But not quickly enough...

So yes, I was readying myself for retaliation even as I spoke. One didn't challenge the established status quo, even if it wasn't deliberate, and expect it to simply slide. Preparation or no, Basil's fist crashed against the side of my head far harder than even I'd been expecting from my fellow Big. The force of the blow sent me skittering and sliding back downwards, end over end, passed other yelping haggard looking youths in a welter of shattered tiles in a stunned daze.

One of them already scrambled down after my tumbling form...

" _Hei!_ "

In fact, it would have likely pitched me over the edge towards the distant cliffs below if not for the slender pale hand that reached out quickly to grasp hold of my wrist just as I went over the edge. My momentum almost dragged my savior right off with me, a loss I doubted Basil would have minded overmuch, but thankfully the intervention did give me the time I needed to snap things back into focus, and snatch hold of the gutter lip with my free hand, legs dangling.

"Hang on, I-I've got you!"

" _Skye!?_ "

Blinking rapidly to try and combat the dizziness, I stared up at the diminutive figure a few years younger than myself crouched above me, sighing in stark relief even as the strain of keeping us both from falling pinched her brow beneath a shaggy mane of dirtied light blue hair shot through with streaks of varied similar shades around the bangs, all arranged into ponytail and a pair of braided pigtails that hung about her shoulders.

Ciane Skye. One of the "Smalls," and the only one with any actual sense in their head anyway. A cast off, her parent's caravan apparently fallen victim to Grimm during a trading run a few seasons before. Common enough story, especially out here.

Without anywhere else to go, she was easy prey for the Guilds. She'd latched onto me early from her joining Basil's group, following me around, passing what she heard in exchange for a bit of extra food here and there. Most of the younger kids did the same for me, of course, seeing as few liked dealing with a bully like Basil, and I was always able to come up with a little extra in the way of Lien.

Unlike the others however, she was actually useful, especially in moments like this when latching on was exactly what had been required.

Her dark eyes narrowed, wincing as she dug her sandals into a lip in the tiled roof, managing to haul me up a few inches with a grunt of effort.

Frankly, it was a miracle the young girl was able to do even that much, practically skin and bones through the stained shirt and tattered shorts she wore. Typical. It wasn't like the meager rations we'd been getting would ever have been able to sustain a growing young body. How was she managing...?

 _'The mark!'_ I recalled with a flicker of alarm.

Closing my eyes, I swiftly reached inward for that light - my Aura - with calm surety despite my current predicament. Soon enough, I felt the sudden suffusion of warmth course through my body accompanied by fresh energy, and my awareness... "spread" for lack of a better term.

Suddenly - wonderfully - I could "see" not only the outline of Skye struggling to keep hold of my sleeve, but Basil standing tall a top his perch arms wide to give his hefty bulk and the club in his hand even greater focus and act as a signal to the others who even now had melted from the alleys and entered the streets, weapons in hand, to surround the lone figure.

" _You there, Stranger!_ "

The "leader" called down to our Mark. It was a man from what I knew, but my " _Sight_ " wasn't so distinct as to offer any more details beyond general shape, made all the harder by the cloak wrapped around his body. At least he wasn't as large as Basil and his adolescent bulk was, at least not physically, anyway, but the way he stood seemed to make all the difference even as the urchin clambered down to the ground and made to tower above him.

"Came marching in the wrong part of town, you did!"

"...Did I now?" a new voice sounded clearly in the night air, carried aloft by the wind above the snickers of Basil's men. It's timbre was curt, strong, and yet... weary. If I hadn't the knowledge of his situation, I'd have almost have thought he seemed bored. If anything, that only confirmed my suspicions and my fears. This was not a man to be trifled with.

And yet Basil had to go and open his big idiotic mouth, doing exactly that...

"Yes, sir! Gotta pay toll to walk these streets!" the younger man declared, holding his arms out wide, motioning to his comrades. Children they might be, but even so the appearance of a dozen armed individuals clutching jagged spears and knives ought to give any sane person pause.

This man, though... "And you're... toll collectors, then?"

"H-Hei, too... too heavy!" My comrade's grunting plea brought my attention back to my rather precarious position. My arms starting to burn with an acidic tang...

"Let go." I intoned, my Aura lending determination despite the seething panic welling up in my gut. "I'll be fine."

"What, you can't be seri... _Ah!_ "

Oh, but I was. Before she had time to argue, the hand she clutched shot forward to push her back out of harm's way before clutching hold of the gutter opposite my other arm, legs rocking like a pendulum.

Whatever the pains involved, running for that former Haven dropout and thief had still been the best choice I'd ever made. I'd even gotten the satisfaction of seeing him dragged off after he'd been kind enough to unlock my Aura, the law finally catching up to him with a bit of help.

Once, twice, on the third I propelled myself backwards and up into an acrobatic flip - made simple with Aura and adrenaline - to land in a neat crouch on the edge of the rooftop, looking down over the expanse with a wry chuckle at the sheer daring. Deep down, I knew such a feat had to be of little challenge to a true Huntsman or Huntress, those heroic guardians fighting against the Creatures of Grimm that roamed the countryside at night, but for an adolescent urchin I had to imagine it was enough.

"Jerk!" Ciane scowled, sticking out her tongue as she rubbed at her bottom, "You could've just asked!"

"I did. You didn't listen fast enough." I began working my way up carefully along the tiles, pausing beside her to place a hand on her shoulder gently, startling the girl. "Though the aid was most appreciated. I owe you one."

I tacked on a warm smile to the gesture, one I'd long practiced over the years of charming pity from passersby. I'd have to thank my father for one thing: he'd given me his looks. The only worthwhile thing about him.

It wasn't as if the old bastard could have gotten by on anything else.

And she of course bought into it, the young girl's face beaming with pride as she pushed my hand away with a casually dismissive air, turning up her nose at me.

"Careful. I'll remember that, Hei." Yes, I had no doubt she would. That was the problem with being effective. It also meant you were, more often than not, smart. A fact more than a few Guilds and bullies over the years had learned when it came to me. "Now, Basil is already..."

"I saw." She opened her mouth as if to question, but shut it just as quickly, nodding before following me up the incline. "Stupid fool. He's going to get them all...!"

I cut that thread before I could say much more, the girl nervous enough as it was. Rightly so, if Basil had actually blundered his way into what I thought he had.

"...ell c'mon! Hand over the cash!" the brute growled, thoroughly annoyed now at his prey's continuing inaction, the others shifting unsteadily waiting to follow his lead. "You deaf, old man!? Or just stupid!?"

Now that I could see him truly with my own eyes, I found myself wondering how Basil possibly could have thought this man a proper target. Chestnut brown hair slicked back from the pale haggard face of a man under strain, violet eyes gleaming with an inner air of superiority and anger that could only make those it fell upon shrink backwards rather than face it head on. Even from this distance, just looking at them indirectly, it was hard not to feel a shiver run down my spine.

The Small who had marked him out had messed up. Badly. Our intended victim appeared wealthy, yes, obvious from the silver piping and clasps adorning a dark frock coat even frayed and torn as it was, down to the make of his mud splattered boots were all indicators of the equipment quality.

Of course, our spotter hadn't thought to take into account the obvious signs of struggle and combat, and not just against the usual foot pad or thug. Unless there just happened to be men walking the streets capable of leaving claw marks of a size like the ones adorning the stranger's tattered cloak. We hadn't just sprung the trap on some Guild enforcer or well off Kingdom Official. No, we weren't that lucky.

Oh dear gods... We'd just ambushed a _Huntsman..._

"...So that's it. Spotters on the rooftops and in alleyways looking to catch drunks and miscreants on their way back to the higher districts, then," the Mark said casually, head turning to regard those around him, the children flinching back from his steely gaze. "Clever to be out this early, too. You'd catch targets at their weakest. When they'd rather pay your fine than explain the beatings they took. And this ambush... Well planned if not well executed." He gave the barest hint of a shrug before looking Basil up and down from the tattered soles of his boots to the ragged topknot he wore. "Your fault, I take it? You're far too simple to have come up with something like this."

"Wha... What did you just...!?"

"By her blood... I'm insulting you boy. At least do try to pay attention."

"Uh... Eh?"

"It was Hei! He thought it up!" One of the younger boys spoke up in the midst of Basil and his babbling incredulity. Holding out his spear shakily at the man's throat before flinching away at the sight off his boss rounding on him. "But he did! He _did!_ "

"Shut your damned mouth!" He was losing his grip on the situation, a flicker of panic showing through the rage. He wanted fear, and this man wasn't giving it to him. Worse, the others were starting to pick up on that, backing off steadily in a loosening circle. "What do you idiots think you're doing!? He's just some cocky...!"

"So this 'Hei' was the one. Interesting. And where might he be?" He looked about, evidently unimpressed with the others. " _Well?_ "

"He's... _Gah!_ Stop asking questions! Wallet out, now!"

It was hard to suppress a chuckle at just how red Basil's face was turning at the embarrassment. Ciane wasn't even trying, and I didn't move to stop her. A mistake on both our parts I soon realized as a pair of violet eyes picked us out immediately.

"And you must be 'Hei,' I presume?"

My body suddenly tensed with every instinct screaming at me to run and hide like a scared child in the face of it. A feeling beaten down by a sudden rush of self-reproach, and an anger that seethed just below the surface of my calm as my hand twitched to the handle of the knife at my waist.

 _'No... Not again. **Never again!...** '_

My jaw tightened, gaze narrowing in an attempt to meet the Huntsman's without fear. To what seemed his own surprise, I was successful, if barely, my legs feeling like leaden weights. And then they actually did mere moments later, along with the rest of my body, I found to my alarm. Basil had thought to take advantage of the stranger's distraction, rearing back with club raised, only to suffer a similar fate.

We were frozen frigid as statues in mid-motion, held in place by a strange pressure exerted from the Huntsman's eyes...

I couldn't move however much I tried, my muscles straining desperately in the attempt, but every action meeting some invisible insurmountable wall that brooked resistance. Every breath was a struggle. A high-pitched whine spilled from Ciane's throat, the girl's eyes wide in terror at her body's rebellion. Fear it was difficult not to fall to, that violet gaze staring dispassionately towards those before him.

But not all. Those facing the back of the Huntsman still had control of themselves, confused as to what was happening. Many cried out, wondering what they should do, only to receive nothing more than fearful, wide-eyed looks and silence. Basil's eyes were the widest of all, face locked in an expression of rictus anger.

"Children, this is done without even moving." Our target addressed those moving, his voice calm but laden with latent threat. "Do any of you _really_ want to see what I'm capable of when that changes?" His fingers twitched, a motion that set many feet in motion. "Run along quickly. I'm in no mood."

He hadn't even needed to speak, those with the ability to do so already fleeing back into the darkness of the alleys and gutters as swiftly as their trembling legs could carry them.

Breathing out a weary sigh, our captor blinked, motion returning an instant later as most of the gang still remaining fell back off their feet, Ciane and I collapsing to the tiled roof, her silent shivering whimpers filling my ears though I was in no place to offer comfort. Dimly, I noticed Basil struggle to rise only to have his weapon kicked aside and the other booted heel smash down atop his back, eliciting a pain-fueled keen at an octave I'd never heard from the other boy before and deep down never desired to hear again.

"Pathetic. Utterly _pathetic,_ " the Huntsman spat venomously, withdrawing his heel and scowling at the weeping young adult rolling in the dirt at his feet. "Rats daring to bear weapons at their betters. The Kingdoms should be ashamed."

And like that he was gone, long loping strides carrying him down the dirt path back into the night, leaving us, and our now weeping leader, be.

"H-Hei?" My young friend spoke up from behind me in a stuttering whisper. Suddenly, I realized I'd gotten to my feet without even thinking, making to follow in the same direction the man had vanished. "Where... W-where are you going!?"

"Look after the others. I'll be back soon." I told the girl with as much confidence as I could confidently fake, dredging up the courage to smile comfortingly even as I began working my way along. Stumbling at first in the wake of whatever the Huntsman had done, but growing steadily more composed with each step, leaping down into the streets. "I promise!"

I wasn't sure if she'd believed me then. Probably for the best, considering what was to happen next...

* * *

 _'This was a bad idea. Utterly foolish...'_

Such thoughts raced freely through my head, and with good reason. What I was doing was foolish, chasing after a man who'd faced down a group of armed assailants and saw them crushed beneath the weight of his very presence, and reduced a boy I admitted, in my darker moments, that I feared to tears in the dirt.

I'd seen Huntsmen and Huntresses before from a distance, of course. When a person is capable of taking on the deadliest creatures on the face of Remnant and utilizing powers that most could neither understand or even comprehend, one was usually well served either adoring or avoiding them a the best of times.

But here I was...

Worse, I couldn't even say why I was doing this for those first few frantic minutes I spent trying to pick up his trail. Finding my first lead, a few Lien spent to convince an old beggar to loosen his tongue and point me in the right direction, a moment more of intimidation to be certain of his information...

The cold hard facts of my lack of purpose purpose digging at the corners of my conscious mind even as I resumed my hunt, seeking my quarry through the winding circuits Wind Path took along the cliff face.

This was foolish, idiotic, and worse... deadly. I should flee back to the glorified shack my band of thieves had taken for its own, use Basil's shaming to advance myself further. The older boy had been utterly humiliated, his days with the guilds, especially after the story spread, would be numbered in weeks at the most, barely even that. This was my chance...

So why wasn't I doing just that? Why was I here?

Of course, it would be while I was busy dwelling and second-guessing that my quarry would take his chance to turn the tables. My... ability, growing fuzzy at the edges, reflecting my lack of focus.

One breath I was running after the vague outline of something resembling the man's coattails. A moment to round the corner to cut through another few blocks in a bid to outdo the Huntsman, the next I was on my back, the silvery glint of a single-edged saber sharper than sin held flush at my throat. The Hunted had become the Huntsman once more, and now I lay at his mercy.

Those eyes... Those damned violet eyes...

"You were overeager... 'Hei,' was it?" The man's voice sounded so much more forceful up close, still with that sonorous weary timbre that even at its lowest could probably have still stolen the air from my lungs. Hearing my name only drove the effect so much deeper... "You showed some skill and resourcefulness. Though the danger of even a moment's lack of caution can be fatal. Which begs the question of exactly _why_ you've been following me?"

The blade vanished from my throat to hang loosely at his side, leaving a thin trickle of red from a cut I hadn't even felt. No, what hurt was the knowledge that I'd always been the hunted, even from the beginning. A trap that he could have closed at any time he'd wished.

"Revenge for what I did to your leader? Hoping to gain some clout? Let me tell you now, boy, your friend isn't worth the trouble."

"He's _not_ my friend!" I spat back at him with more vehemence than I'd intended, especially in a position like this, with my life no doubt hanging by the Huntsman's whims. "And he isn't my ;eader!"

"Oh, you could have fooled me." The disgust in his tone rattled me, the contempt stifling. "Really, now, what did you hope to gain?"

"I didn't hope to gain...!" I faltered, and lost the initiative. My own doubts creeping back on me. "I... I didn't..."

"Think? No, it seems you didn't. Fool." He shook his head as if disappointed, sword vanishing in a whirring series of clicks and disappearing up a wide sleeve even as he turned his back on me just as he had Basil, taking a few steps as I simply lay there staring at the stars teeth bared. "Run back to whatever hole you crawled from, and leave me to my work."

 _" **You don't think!** That's always been your...!"_

A voice echoed from the depths of my nightmares. Insults hurled against a man I could never respect. A man who'd lost me everything I'd cared about...

" _That!_ "

The stranger paused at my outburst, glancing over his shoulder to regard me as I kicked myself back to my feet; more my hands and knees really. My world swam from the rush of blood and the loss of composure, but I had his attention, violet meeting dark granite.

"I want... I want what you have!" An eyebrow arched, an amused shadow of a smile darting across his lips as he raised a hand to a pocket at his coat. "Not your money! Not that! I want...!"

It was clear now. Finally clear. I hadn't come out here out of some vain attempt to win back face, nor try and simply test myself against someone most in my trade would have avoided on principal. And I certainly didn't want to return, worming my way along as I had for years, thinking to raise myself in a dung heap.

I desired what he'd shown so easily, all but flaunting it in my face even now. _Power._

Power to quell those who would stand before me. The strength to crush any who would seek to take advantage of me at a mere glance. If I'd had even a _fraction_ of that, I could have defended my family - my mother - all those years ago. I could have swept aside competition, and taken my place without having to debase myself at the whims of some rat like Basil or countless others.

More than that even. I wanted...

"I want... my _pride_ back." The admission cost me in more ways than I was ready to admit, shattering the veneer of control that I'd built over half a lifetime in service to cruel vultures who would swipe down and pick away at any sign of weakness. "Moreover, I want to _take_ it back! Take it by my own hands! I'm tired of living like some animal!"

An animal, digging out of waste cans, stealing from those better off, fighting to impress some faceless wretch grown fat on his tithes.

The same man that saw his mother murdered.

"...And?"

I blinked, taken aback for a moment. The man's expectations... "A-And?"

"And what are you willing to do to take it back?" the man explained as if to a child, which, in a way, I supposed he was. The comparison between us was pretty much non-existent. "You want strength. You want power. What are you willing to put aside to obtain those? What will you do when you finally have what you want?"

He sensed my hesitation, no doubt, raising an arm in a motion that felt as though it would stop my heart, only to scratch at the back of his head idly. Probably the most human gesture I'd seen of him so far.

It took a full minute to compose myself, to steady my breathing, to determine my answers... but when I finally did speak, it was to his face. He almost seemed to admire that, which in turn only made the fire in my chest burn hotter.

" _Anything..._ Anything that won't sacrifice what little dignity I have left, anyway." A child could say he'd do anything. This was to be a bargain. "I'll follow your lead, if that's what it takes. Fight your battles, and do what I have to... But I intend to surpass you in the end. Understand that? And once I'm done..." I clenched my fists tightly, a dark grey light beginning to show almost imperceptibly beneath my skin. Still he said nothing, made no move, still as a statue. That was fine, I was the one talking after all. "Once I'm done with you, I'm going to build a world where I'll _never_ have to settle again."

That had been more than I'd intended. It was always my weakness, shooting for more than I could grasp. _His_ weakness, passed on. One I expected to see me beaten into the ground, arrested, maybe even felled by a flash of silver.

What I didn't expect was for the man to narrow his eyes, and then walk right past me, back towards the busy street. My eyes wide, my limbs shaking from the mere effort of standing straight and not collapsing back in on myself.

Failure... My failure, the knowledge that I'd just been denied slowing the world to a crawl...

"...Well?"

My heart began to beat once more, my senses returning in a rush of sound and sights as I almost toppled over in my haste to respond, catching sight of him waiting there, outlined by the lights spilling from other buildings. But even so, his eyes were always staring, his voice rising above the others.

A fact that would stick with me over the years as he asked the question that would change my life forever.

"Huh?"

"Are you just going to stand there?" I stared dumbly at him, the man shaking his head before staring off at the thin strip of red just along the horizon. "First lesson, boy. If you're going to build a new world, you should at least know how to take a few steps forward."

* * *

 **(Five Years Earlier)**

 _"The White Fang is simply experiencing political shifts with Belladonna's abdication. The recent rise in Faunus on Human violence is merely a symptom of this unrest. One that will pass given time, patience, and understanding. In that, we must strive to be the example. We are not animals, and neither are the Faunus... We must remember this, or the wheel will simply continue to turn." - Tristan Mayer, Retired Huntsman, Former Chair & Founder of the Humanity's Hands Front_

Those words - and the many cowardly sentiments like them - had been the excuses tossed out by lingering dissenters within the movement during those early days.

The days before High Leader Sienna Khan rose to startling popularity with her far more aggressive stance. Before the death tolls on both sides started mounting, with innocents caught in the crossfire. Where before there had been scattered shows of extremism, now there was a tide of violence sweeping across the Kingdoms. All in the name of " _equality_ " for the Faunus.

 _'With hindsight, it's almost eerie how accurate Violette's predictions concerning the White Fang turned out to be...'_

Years of talks, protests, and debate. All dissolved by a series of brutal acts perpetrated by the once peaceful White Fang. Faunus now sporting the masks of monsters, reveling in the fear they caused in the hearts of men. All hoping to be noticed by the world, and validated in their actions. Some had even gotten their names recognized. Taurus, Fidelis...

It was all so... _pathetic._ Picking away at the feet of the Kingdoms, pricking and poking with sensationalism and extremism, all while hiding their faces from those they sought to challenge. But their actions had done little as of yet. A few explosions and thefts, a few lives lost. Such things wouldn't even faze the remaining strongholds of humanity as a whole.

All it did was turn hysteria and the eyes of the strong against their own people, and even then they did little but repeat the same mistakes again, and again, and again. The definition of insanity.

And in the end, no one would win but the Grimm.

The Humanity's Hands Front was established in the first place to aide the surviving victims of such violence, initially in the face of the monsters outside our civilization's walls, and now as a means of helping souls recover in the face of the monsters within. Charities and infrastructure, with established connections dating back years.

And in Master Violette's eyes, it could be so much _more._

The Front aided survivors, healed their wounds, and provided them with homes and amenities, but it didn't _listen_ to them. Its representatives didn't want to hear to stories of those stunned individuals left with nothing, who had had their lives stolen or changed forever in a war of idealism most weren't even aware was being fought.

They were angry, furious... And Master Violette listened to their pain, sharing his own.

He'd stoked those fires, posing a question to them all.

Their leaders - in the Kingdoms and in the HHF itself - had told them this trouble would pass... but what if it _didn't?_ What if things got worse, or if the Kingdoms proved inefficient in the fight to stop them as they were showing more and more? What if the people that had hurt them got away with it?...

And soon came those who wouldn't stand for such a travesty.

Men and women, Huntsman and Huntresses, who wished to fight to avenge personal loss or to seek justice for the casualties of others. People willing to help teach others capable of learning to do the same in their stead.

They would trap the beasts in their holes, and rid Remnant of the danger they posed. The "Trappers," as they'd been called...

Soon enough, my Master and I had allies. And that was just the beginning.

Violette's eye for talent and potential was ever searching, picking out those who could be of use in the coming crusade he planned; those who would carry the torch. He had seen something in me years ago, and I had taken to his lessons like a fish finally returned to water.

Sword and fist, tactics and strategy, the will to gird my soul and turn it into a weapon stronger than any other. For hours we would spar, both with weapon and word, swords meeting in the carried forms and styles of his homeland as often as he threw doubt after doubt at me, seeking to crumple my resolve.

" _Again!_ " he would shout, blade sweeping forth in a neat riposte that saw my own weapon skittering across the floor, a knee driving itself into my sternum. "Too slow, too many openings! _Again!_ "

A flicker cut to probe my defenses before retreating, leading me to expose myself in my hasty counterstroke. A move I soon regretted, the handle of his weapon crashing against the side of my skull before raining down in quick succession at various points along my back and shoulders.

"Do not just react! _See_ further! See _clearer!_ Anticipate your enemy and strike with surety! _Again!_ "

Would I falter?...

More than once as I lay bleeding and broken at his feet did I ask myself that very question. And each time, I made my struggling way back to my feet, or at least my knees, for that was what was expected of me.

"Again! Again! _Again!_ "

But I would not see his grand mission through alone. Oh no...

Others joined us, young men and women who, like me, were among the best of the best, with the motivation to boot. In those first months, they had been the sole focus of my Master and many of his fellows, his time for me growing ever thinner in the face of mounting White Fang activity.

I was jealous, at first anyway. Tension between those new disciples was rife, each struggling to show themselves superior in the eyes of our teachers. To prove they were worthy of the investment shown to them. But then something came about that I did not expect. Something that I hadn't experienced before, at least during my time with the gangs or training alone with my Master.

The concept of _equals._ Of competing with those at my level in some areas and even beyond in others. I was excited to test myself for the first time, to really push the boundaries of what I thought I could do and face others willing to do the same.

And in those efforts, I found something even more startling. Comrades.

 _Friends_...

* * *

 **(Humanity's Hands Front - Training Facility)**

Deafening sound and dust -logged smoke filled my senses as I hastily leapt aside to avoid the explosion of crushing force cratering the space I'd been only moments before. The motion jarring my shoulder as I rolled into a low crouch, head darting left and right trying to make sense through the stinging malaise.

A shimmer of motion, and I turned, ducking under a dark shape that passed overhead by mere centimeters, expelling a great furnace heat in its passing that made the skin across my back tingle and even flared my Aura as debris was scattered by over pressure.

Jasper Fullmark towered over me, all muscle and bravado. All of it brought to bear in attacks that had already seen the floor and the walls of the wide training space littered with still smoking craters where his _Furioso_ had been unable to hold back its destructive capabilities.

Any of them likely capable of finishing the fight in a single blow, and potentially myself along with it.

A sane man didn't attempt to meet the blows of such a man or of such a weapon head-on, even with the strength of the soul behind them. I was faster, he was stronger... Use that. Be unexpected.

More stabbing thrusts and twirling arcs, more hastily weaved escapes that saw me avoiding severe injury by scant breadths and the tips of his gloved knuckles. All growing closer and closer by the moment, step by step, for every attempted counter I tried to employ. Sword singing in my hand as it whistled through the air, clipping red-gold hairs from my opponent's head, nicking the barest edges of my prey's defenses, or far more often glancing off the face of a weapon that spun always to meet it despite its own unwieldy size. My opponent manipulated the maul's momentum with nigh preternatural skill.

This was dangerous, even those light blows enough to almost tear the blade's handle from my grasp. I needed to put some distance between us. Thankfully, though rather unluckily, my opponent held a similar notion.

"Gotta be... _tch_... faster than that, Hei!"

An open palm lashed outward, carrying the force of an Aura clad burst of energy behind it that caught my bared chest, and sent me skidding and tumbling backwards. Weapon shifting swiftly while I rolled in a rush of whirring gears to take its bladed pistol shape once more, my aim erratic as I fired back in the direction of my foe, hitting nothing but empty air.

 _'Damn it!'_

Mecha-shifting the weapon once again as I kicked myself to my feet, a thick single edged sword raised before me in a warding stance while trying my best to get a sense of where my opponent might strike next in the smoky haze, eyes watering. Ears still ringing, visibility cut off with an enemy stalking about as I struggled to collect my bearings, a poor situation that left only one recourse. Another way of seeing...

Breathing in a deep cloying lungful of air, I closed my eyes and cleared my mind of outward irritants just as Master Violette had instructed, seeking balance in my efforts to see even further than before...

" _Haha_! Way too slow, Hei!" a cocky voice cried out from directly behind me in a snarling grunt of laughter followed by a shape with hair burnished like fire barreling from the smoke, caught up in the midst of bringing the still steaming head of his cudgel hurtling down towards my crouched silhouette.

Laughter that soon faded from Jasper's eyes as the blow meant to smash me into the ground was suddenly met with a flicker of steel, sparks flying at the point of impact where its edge met the other weapon's haft, my arm bracing the blade as I pushed outward with all my might.

A sane man wouldn't attempt to meet the blows of such a man or such a weapon head on, so I didn't. Not directly anyway, but with enough speed and precision...

"Slow, perhaps, but fast enough, Fullmark!" I hissed through gritted teeth with my eyes still closed, brow furrowed but with a pearly white grin splitting my dark features. "Good try, though!"

"Why you cheeky...!?"

My little maneuver hadn't halted the raw oppressive power behind the swing. Far from it. My shoulder and tendons screamed in protest under the strain of taking the hit, as did _Vigilance's_ blade, though long years and proper maintenance had seen both body and weapon endure. Pf course not without feeling as if a mountain was driving me down into the stone floor, spreading webs of cracks across the sweat streaked tiles.

Rather than buckle, the move had instead redirected the momentum of _Furioso's_ attack to the side to shatter the ground beside me. It's wielder was thrown off balance as he tried and failed to orient himself properly in the wake of his assault, unable to work up the momentum his weapon needed, and in the end...

 _"Always seek out opportunity."_

Violette's teachings sounded in my skull, or perhaps that was just the bell that seemed to be clanging against my eardrums. It mattered little, such a small thing didn't halt my fist drilling into his bared solar plexus, pulsing a burst of focused Aura into his gut in a move that doubled the other boy over with a splutter of spit and phlegm.

Nor did it keep me from weaving out from underneath his lurching bulk, sword poised to take his head with a single downward stroke to his exposed neck...

 _"If the opportunity doesn't present itself, make it so."_ A lesson well learned.

" _That's enough!_ "

The call to cease rang clearly through the training space, my body going rigid a moment before the penultimate finish while my opponent staggered forward a few steps, collapsing to his knees coughing and wheezing. Body failing despite the effort of will, impressive even so.

Breathing out a long sigh to allow the adrenaline to burn off, I lowered the blade, taking in the wiry youth with hair like molten copper clapping his hands together on the sidelines. Evidently pleased with the show, he snatched up the box-like rifle propped beside him and slinging it over his shoulders before making his way over.

"Thinking Hei takes this match, Jas," he said with a teasing air about him dragging a finger across his neck, though the smile he wore stole the rancor from the words. "Unless you think you can keep going with a little off the top. Might improve your looks."

Mazon Nell. A Vacuan like Jasper himself was, and just as skilled if not more so. Always joking and smiling, always needling his countryman...

"I'd, ow... _Agh-ha!_ I'd have had him, Mazo," Jasper wheezed between hard fought breaths as I offered a hand, my fellow recruit taking it gratefully as I hauled him unsteadily to his feet, his maul relegated to improvised support for the moment. Appreciation fading away to amused irritation, his gaze falling on me. "Thought I had you dead to rights. That damn Semblance of yours ain't fair."

"Oh, and yours is any more reasonable?"

I rolled my aching shoulder with a grunt of protest and wiped some sweat drenched curls from my face, staring out at the carnage wrought upon the arena that my friend had left in his wake, still pausing somewhat at that descriptor.

"Didn't Master Violette counsel restraint?" I added, trying to cover the slip.

"Yeah, sure. Restraint from the Beringel runt with the club. That'll be the day." Mazon looped an arm over said " _runt's_ " shoulders, the other aiming to for mine... And I allowed it. Allowed myself to be drawn in close to my snickering companions.

Well, the russet haired youth was snickering, his friend grunting angrily despite the grin shadowing the corner of his lips.

"Least that sister of yours wasn't around to see you get floored this time. Doubt that'd have been too fun for anyone."

"Nah, you kidding? Hei half-naked and kicking my ass, you probably could've sold tickets, and Glim still would've had a front row seat." Jasper laughed, looking me up and down with a sly smirk and a trace of something else. Something more... a lingering look of appraisal and blushing heat.

No matter, the expression was gone a heartbeat later quickly enough that I might've imagined it. Another easy laugh on the Recruit's quirked lips.

"'Course you'd still need to scrimp for a drool bucket. Remember last time?"

"Ah yes, how could I ever forget? Her and most of the others. 'Oh Hei, so strong, so _dreamy..._ '" It was a fair impersonation, if crude. One that I suspected Miss Glimmer might not appreciate.

"Why would Glimmer be cheering for me?" I spoke up, looking between the two, unsure of the meaning behind the incredulous expressions on their faces. "What? She's your sister. Wouldn't she support you regardless?" They were snickering now, the arm around my shoulder shuddering with the effort of keeping me contained. "I mean, I know she's interested in my technique, but..."

"Yep, I bet she is." Mazon was beaming, holding his chest as though in pain. Pain that became all to real when Jasper thumped him on the head.

"Ha, ha. And guess who has to hear all about it." Fullmark shook his head, crinkling his nose a hair as he made a gagging noise. "Truth be told, laws of brotherhood probably demand I should be pummeling you into the ground right now. Thing is I tried, and you saw how that ended." He raised a thumb towards the craters and then at the rapidly spreading bruise on his stomach.

"I, er... don't quite understand...?"

"My gods mate, for someone who sees as much as you do, you're pretty damn blind sometimes," Mazon sighed rubbing at his scalp, both he and Jasper sharing another laugh.

And strangely enough, I couldn't help but join them. My chest ached with the effort, but it felt... nice to share some easy joy with friends.

 _'Friends... Is that what this is?'_

I couldn't quite be sure. I'd had comrades in the gangs in the struggle to survive and thrive, but those had always been more for convenience than anything else, such relationships more liable to end with a knife in the back or a foot to trip you when the police gave chase.

There had been admirers in the form of Ciane and some of the other Little's... Gods, I hadn't thought about those left behind in Mistral in how long?

But no, I couldn't call them friends. They had been under my command; tools to use and support me. Violette... No, that just seemed wrong. My Master was my teacher, and despite learned and shared secrets between us, I was still his pupil, nothing more and nothing less.

I respected him, I studied at his feet, but we were far from equals.

 _'At least not yet...'_

But with Jasper and Mazon, even some of the others that had distinguished themselves from Violette's pet program of prodigies, it was different. We all worked towards a common goal of striking a blow for humanity and for ourselves, and at the same time finding a shadow of what many of us had lost in each other.

Jasper and his sister Glimmer had lost their mother in the early days of the White Fang's turn, their father reduced to a shell by the experience. Former combat students turned to the Cause. Mazon was much the same, as were the others... Story after story.

If anything, I was the outsider there. My parents... My mother lost at the hands of greed and idiocy, but they had accepted me nonetheless. We were going to make a better world, and I would aid my friends in any way I could.

That I swore, promising that no matter what happened I would...

* * *

 **(Four Years Earlier - Anima, Kuchinaschi)**

 **"** _ **Hold on!**_ **"**

I blinked away the sweat stinging my eyes, the heat of the Dust-fueled fires and detonations raging below us enough to fog the visor I wore. So much so, I barely make out the vague outlines of similarly masked and armored figures perched above on the lip of the tattered gantry.

Running, I'd been running across a metal bridge when suddenly a wall of sound assaulted my ears and the floor had vanished beneath me. I'd fallen, too shocked to react, but someone had, catching my wrist in a crushing grasp. I recalled being in a similar situation, if far removed, years earlier. A youthful face staring down at me with worry and concern. A pointless memory now really, but still it came.

Then I'd been able to save myself. Now...

 **"I've got you, Hei! Just... _Gah,_ just don't let go!" **Jasper gasped through the mask's distorting effect, his weapon discarded to the side, and a gloved hand clasped desperately about my wrist. **"Don't you dare!"**

The only thing preventing me from falling into the monstrous heat below, and a great risk, rounds fired from weapons borne by masked Faunus situated on lower platforms pinging off the twisted steel mere inches away in showers of blinding sparks. Some it deflected off of _Vigilance's_ edge, driven aside in mad desperate swings.

And not all of them missed nor were directed at myself alone.

The warrior flinched back with a grunt of pain as a shot ricocheted a hand's breath away. and cracked against his face mask, Aura flashing weakly unable to repel the worst of it. But still he held firm, unwilling to let go. But it wouldn't matter. His grip was weakening. Blood, his own and others, slick across his gloves and dripping slowly across my vision slits.

 **"Mazo... D-damn it!"**

 **"Too many!"** Mazon, stood alongside him, called back. Cursing furiously in the midst of trading back shots with brilliant crimson bursts from his energy rifle, and hitting more than a few White Fang in the bargain. But there were more coming on the way. Always more... **"Well, what are you waiting for!? We have to go! Get him up! Get him up!"**

 **"I-I can't!"** My friend's stormy eyes were screwed tight behind his now cracked visor with the burden of supporting my weight with only one limb, the other arm limp by his side, broken and bleeding in several places. Remnants of debris thrown from the same explosion that had doomed this operation and me...

A simple target, really. A mission to find and disrupt a particularly fruitful partnership of White Fang and the local scum supplying them with Dust operating out of Anima. Kuchinaschi, to be precise. Much the same as Wind Path, the city boasted its own fair share of crime, organized networks of groups capable of and all too willing to operate outside the laws set by the Kingdoms.

With my background, I had been the obvious choice to send in. Mazon and Jasper, the other stars of our generation, were all too happy to tag along and provide assistance. And with a few palms greased, the right people coerced, we had a target.

A week was all it had taken. A week to see those responsible crushed, their profits and resources seized for the cause of humanity, and our mission fulfilled. But I'd found more from one of those few prisoners we'd left standing... Well, not _standing._

According to our source, the White Fang planned to attack a Dust processing plant, and take hold of the product directly without needing to resort to the smugglers. Typical White Fang, it seemed...

We should have reported it to our Handlers, and allowed the Kingdom's authorities the chance to protect their assets and return to the Bullhead we'd been given, our jobs done with prizes in hand. But no, how could we resist? To strike that kind of blow personally against the Faunus, and make them bleed...

We'd been sloppy, far too eager, and it had cost us dearly. Overconfidence born from the praise of others and the success of previous assignments. We stormed the factory and indeed found White Fang. Far more than the dozen or so our by then expired informant had promised. So we fought, desperately in a bid to escape, only to discover too late they hadn't come to rob the factory... The bastard animals had come equipped to destroy it.

 **"More coming, we have to go now or none of us are making it out!"**

 **"Mazo, it's fine! I think... if we try together we can...! Mazo?"**

Jasper looked over his shoulder to see what I already could with my Semblance, Mazon looking between him, myself, and the sudden surge of shouting coming from below. I couldn't "see" the expression on his face, not hidden underneath the mask as it was. I didn't have to.

And that made it hurt all the more when Jasper's voice issued from the mask, shocked in disbelief.

 **" _Mazon, don't you...!_ "**

 **" _I'm sorry!_ "**

Did our fellow mean that apology for Jasper, or me?

Jasper cried out as Mazon took his chance and broke for our extraction point, firing at the enemy as he ran without looking back. Not even once. Why did that matter?

It shouldn't have, not when an explosion even worse than before shook the world around us and finally tore me free from my the other Recruit's grip. Not as I fell back weightless towards the heat even now burning at my faltering Aura, licking up the meat of my exposed flesh. But I could still "see" my one loyal friend, reaching out. I could still hear him before pain seared such things from my senses.

 **" _HEI, NOOO!_ "**

I heard him call out in horror. Heard the rush of another explosion as it rose up to consume me, all sight of my fellow soon lost in the licking elemental fury of fire. The last thing I would ever truly see.

And yet all I could think about was Mazon leaving me behind, and the anger it sparked within me before something just broke.

The fire hurt - gods it was agony - but somehow it still didn't quite overcome the emotional pain of betrayal...

But oh gods, did it come _close._

* * *

 **(?)**

I didn't recall the events that had seen me on that slab, alone in a room with my Master and the madman he'd employed to oversee and study our training, one Doctor Alastor Raleigh. No, I'd been too caught up in screaming my devastated throat hoarse as all the Red Hand's machines and medical staff tore me apart and stitched me back together again in an effort to keep my flagging body alive to focus overmuch on the early parts.

Of course, with hindsight, I could infer a lot. Including that it was a miracle I still breathed at all.

Somehow, my Aura had managed to save me from the flames, if at a cost. Sustaining me in some frenzied instinctive escape from the wreckage, though how, I could not be sure.

The Kingdom's men had found me, a youth thought caught in the blast that had seen the entire factory wiped from the face of Remnant, and they had done their best to make me comfortable in the days afterwards.

The Red Hand's men - Violette's men - found me later in a no-name hospital in the city, and secured me despite the fervid protests of my caregivers, and even some police believing I might have had information as to what happened.

"I would die." They'd said as much to Lucas, who personally led the procession towards an awaiting Bullhead. He didn't even blink.

A nurse had even struggled with one of the guards, despite having been sickened at the mere sight of me only days before.

How I knew this? I saw it... Or, better to say I "saw" it. The fire had taken my eyes. That had been clear enough from the start when the pain had finally receded somewhat, and allowed me to understand my situation.

Darkness. Utter, unrelenting darkness stifling me. Swallowing me whole in its constant embrace.

But where my eyes had failed, I discovered my Semblance had only grown stronger. Where before I struggled to discern even the barest surface details in a space around me, now I found I could see and make sense of everything from an unprecedented range, far beyond what normal flesh and blood vision could provide.

That had been sudden. And terrifying.

Darkness replaced by shadow images of events, people, and places I couldn't interact with, let alone understand in my prison of charred meat.

It very nearly drove me mad, I think. But as in all things, I learned, adapted... and the anger helped. The simmering cold rage that was my only constant companion as I lay confined in a web of tubes, drips, and beeping sensors, that and the pain.

First in the hospital, now here... Wherever "here" was.

"...markable, really. His Aura is still actively attempting to... the damage, while severe... truly quite remarkable," Raleigh's voice filtered in as I returned to consciousness with a start and a brief sense of vertigo, the difference between waking and sleeping still hazy through the fog of chemicals pumping through my system. Dreams had color, wakefulness was darkness. I had to remember the sense of color, and not just that... "I've rarely seen a patient so stubborn. He's actually resisting the drug regimen."

"Is he aware?"

Violette's voice this time, cold as I'd ever heard it. No trace of concern for his student, or none visibly showing on his face at least from what I could make out through the blur of my Semblance, always taking a moment to re-focus in the midst of this haze. He did care, though. I could sense it. Perhaps not the worry of a father or a mentor, but of a man who's weapon had been broken and dearly wished to see it remade.

"Can he... see us?" I was looking right at them, or so it felt like. Of course, as I hadn't been able to feel my features as of yet, touch another thin lost to the agony, I had no idea how disconcerting that would be.

"Not physically, no. His eyes were beyond repair despite my best efforts. The heat seared his corneas. Its likely only by virtue of the mask he wore that he has any recognizable features left at, all really. But he has shown some knowledge or understanding of his surroundings. His Semblance, perhaps? Truly a fortunate turn of events. It would have been a shame if he'd..."

"There is little I find fortunate in this, Doctor." If Raleigh had faltered under Lucas' rebuke, he didn't show it, merely continuing his observations.

Typing away his myriad findings, however small, on a wrist-mounted Scroll. I could feel the lust for information pulsing off him in waves, a shiver running down my spine that only made me want to pass out from the pain.

"Oh, I'm afraid I must disagree, sir. A setback, perhaps, but an opportunity nonetheless." I didn't much care for the relish in his words, the excitement in the way his head moved to regard me.

"Are you actually suggesting...?"

"It would be as we discussed, of course. We needed a subject, and despite his injuries, Recruit Xiao Hei has shown a remarkable resilience in our treatments so far. At the very least it could provide a loose baseline with which to test methods of dose introduction and surgical procedure, the boundaries we can push..." What was he talking about? Surgical procedure?... "Best case scenario, you may be able to salvage your investment in the boy after all."

 _'Salvage...?'_

"He's a child."

"Forgive me for saying so, sir, but they're _all_ children. That's the point. Strong, resilient, yet adaptable in will and body. To see optimum results, the subjects need to grow into the changes. Best to do so early." A wave of the hand, as if to disregard such petty reasoning. "You desired a way to strengthen your people, and push the limits of the human form. It's why you came to me in the first place."

"I saved you from the cell you dwelt in because I was promised you were the best." Violette was shaking now, or at least his fist was, clenched by his side. "Because you could do what I requested of you. Things no one else was willing to try."

"I am, I can, and I will." Raleigh bowed his head low, a mock imitation of the pleasantries the Frontiersmen expected from his soldiers. "But I'm no wizard, snapping his fingers and producing results. I need materials; something to work with. It's all theory and conjecture otherwise." The fervor in his voice - the passion - it was swaying... It was terrifying. "It will be hellish for him, yes, and perhaps fatal. Even if he were whole, that might have been the case. In this state..."

" _Do... n't care...!_ "

Both stiffened, Huntsman and doctor turning to regard me as I fought to force the air from my lungs, to form words. It shamed me that this was perhaps the most difficult fight of my life, but I fought it, with all the passion and drive I could muster.

There was undisguised hunger on Raleigh's face - an eagerness - while on Violette's grim countenance...

"Hei, you... You're certain?" A rare flicker of emotion in the Huntsman's voice, something I'd only heard a handful of times in my years with the warrior.

" _I... don't... ca...re...!_ " It was a broken rasp, a spiteful thin torn from a throat that had been reduced to so little from what it was. But it was something, it was victory. " _Do... Do it!_ "

"...You heard him, Doctor." Lucas moved to stand over me, gazing down with something my Semblance couldn't read. Pride perhaps? Regret? He clapped a fist to his jacketed chest, giving me one last nod before looking back to the young surgeon and butcher. "Whatever it takes. Give me back my blade, or see it broken in the pursuit of something greater."

And then he was gone... And then I learned the true definition of physical agony.

That I remembered all too well.

* * *

 **"They believe me dead?... The others?"**

It wasn't my voice Lucas Violette heard, not truly. The rasping whisper still sounded within the confines of the helm apparatus Raleigh had had designed for my use as I lay recovering, amplified to a distorted whine of clarity.

It wasn't mine. Not yet... but it would do for this purpose.

 **"Truly?"**

"It was necessary. Your 'death' has had a profound galvanizing effect, Hei. Among the other recruits, especially." Lucas nodded solemnly, ramrod straight as he loomed over my bed, observing the creature of sutured grafts, surgical scars, and the bare minimum of mechanical benefit. "They now realize the stakes, seeking to improve themselves and learn from past failures, including your own."

 **"...Failure?"**

"You have become motivation to grow stronger, to maintain a certain standard of excellence in the ranks. And with Raleigh's success, you have provided a source of competition. A battle to obtain the strength you now possess."

Strength... I didn't feel stronger, not yet. Everything ached, feeling numb and dull, and I could still hardly move a muscle without feeling the desire to scream, though that was at least some improvement over what had been reality before.

My senses, however... In my weakness, I thanked the gods for this helmet's dampening effects. The noise... All that _noise._ To hear another's heartbeat, the buzz of electricity in the air, the rattle of surgical equipment, the hissing crackle of gas burners lighting... I shuddered.

Weakness. Something to overcome, but this comfort for now was welcome.

"It should come as no surprise that Recruit Mazon Nell fared rather poorly in the days since. Recruit Fullmark was quite... _candid_ with his appraisal of events, and made sure such information spread." I perked up at the sound of that traitor's name, a distorted growl like an animal issuing from the speaker, though Lucas ignored it or chose not to notice. "He was quite distraught with your apparent passing. Enough that it seems he engaged most of those White Fang still remaining until finally forced to withdraw. I'll admit, I was impressed."

There should have been some comfort there, some emotion I knew. But I wasn't focused on that. Not now. **"Mazon..."**

"For all his skill, Nell's cowardice cost his fellows a comrade they respected. A slight they simply wouldn't forget. A shame, really. I expected better from him."

 **"He left us to die. Left _me_ to die."**

Alert chimes from various monitors ringing in protest, the cacophony of it close to deafening. I grasped hold of a metal railing along the side of the bed for support, trying to prop myself upright until Master Lucas' hand gingerly pushed me down. A keening wail of metal signalling I'd all but torn the stanchion as I went.

Metal bending in my hands like clay as Aura pulsed beneath my flesh, granting me strength. Strength I would need to relearn to control.

 **"Coward."**

"Indeed, though I suppose it matters little, now. The boy perished during a routine sparring match two days ago."

 **"W-what!?"**

Mazon, dead... It hurt. That's what should have mattered to me. A dull pain in my chest, but not loss. More like denial of a great desire.

 **"How? Who?"**

"Fullmark. It seems he was rather careless, and wasn't able to hold his blow after an instructor called a halt to the bout," Lucas said as easily as if he were commenting about the weather. "A costly slip by all accounts, and an accident from what we can tell. He's been disciplined, and I trust will do better to restrain himself in the future."

 **"I... I-I wanted to be the one. It... It should have been me...!"**

Violette's eyes narrowed, or his brows lowered in a way that made me believe they had. So many little ticks that I only now noticed, now I had the _Sense_ to see them. "Your vengeance is done. Clear your mind of such concerns, and let them drift. _Tido_ \- 'Duty' - should be forefront in your thoughts."

 **"...Yes... Yes, Master. I understand."**

A hesitant pause, the barest flicker of annoyance in the man's stance. He disliked being referred to as such, as if he lorded over me. He might treat and think of me as a tool, but I was no slave. Typical Frontier attitude, I was told.

"Do you?"

 **"Of course, Master."** Mazon was dead, but the rage still lingered. Why?... For what purpose? **"What would you have me do? How can I serve the cause?"** A flicker of trepidation passed through me, swiftly crushed. I wasn't sure how much still remained of my face; of my features. Hopefully, there was enough to disguise the emotion. **"I... _will_ serve, yes?"**

"You will... But Xiao Hei will _not._ "

I would have blinked in confusion if I still had eyelids with which to do so. Instead, I merely cocked my head to one side to express my confusion.

Another habit to get used to, the pain tolerable...

"Xiao Hei died a symbol, one I won't see taken from your comrades. Have no doubt, however, you will live as one yourself. An example of the strength this new generation of defenders should strive to obtain. To do this, you will need to be the greatest of them. When one of them imagines what it is to serve the Cause in mind, body, and soul, they must think of you. You will do this."

No doubt in his mind, no hesitation. Vaguely, on some level, I realized this was a sign of his respect. Of how my Master trusted in my abilities despite everything that had happened.

I was still his first student in this new path. The strongest, and I would surpass him even now... diminished as I was.

...No, not diminished. I merely had to find my opportunity, as I always had.

 **"I will, Master."**

"Excellent, you will also need a new name. The boy is dead."

I nodded with the sentiment, feeling that in a way he was. The boy that had been Xiao Hei was no more. In his place would be a man capable of changing the world to his image. One that would never suffer such a betrayal again unanswered. Who would never show weakness without retribution.

"From this day forth, you shall refer to yourself only as..."

* * *

 _ **-Virgil Jett-**_

 **(Present - Anima, Wind Path)**

 _'How curious...'_

The first thought I had to myself as I made my way down slowly off the Shrike's boarding ramp, feeling the first firm breeze of clean crisp air buffet me, ruffling the thick hooded jacket I wore over my equipment.

Taking that brief moment of peace to allow the purity of it to fill my helmet's filters, providing a small but welcome relief after hours confined within the oxygen recycled depths of the still-humming aircraft behind me.

From there, my _Vision_ spread outward. Our landing pad, one of those set within the cliff sides protected from the harshest gales that rippled the peaks and crags that I knew stood below us, even if I could no longer see them as I was now. The bustling heart of Wind Path, proud city of the Kingdom of Mistral, built into the crevices and cliffs of a great peak set along the coast, shielded far beyond the reach of most Grimm and the worst of natural disaster alike.

The place I'd been born, and where I'd lived. Where I'd taken my first steps to becoming what I truly was meant to be.

"Oh, wow!"

Iris called over the howling currents from up ahead where she stood, marveling at the view. Braced and carefully peeking over the edge of the platform, down towards the networked roads of brides, carved stone paths, and elaborately gilded homes built on time hardened supports of wood and steel. Colorful, or so I recalled, glinting in the sunlight cast against the cliff face.

Those mansions of the rich and powerful, placed towards the peaks well above the lesser buildings of those beneath them, from small cottages and homes to the shanties far beneath even them. Home to the smugglers and criminal deviants Wind Path was known for, as much as the frequent storms that carried along the coastline, buffeted by the mountain but always felt.

"I... I've never seen anything like it!"

"True Mistali determination right there." Lancaster just had to announce grandly, marching passed me with a hefty crate of supplies held easily under one meaty arm, sparing his own view at the scenes playing out beneath us.

Despite the arrogance in his tone, even he was somewhat awed I could tell.

"Function, combined with proper appreciation for aesthetics for form and grace. Not like drab Vale at all. Less Grimm too now, I suppose," he added with a snorting chuckle that was answered by a cold stare from the Sniper. "What? Just being honest."

True enough words, if overdone. Words ignored, though, Iris' eyes unable to stay away from the sight for long.

As I could recall, hazy as such things were from the days before my world had gone dark, it had always been something of inspiring sight. A symbol of humanity's endurance in those early days before Dust, showcasing Mankind's ingenuity and mastery of the elements of Remnant.

Beautiful, or so it was in my distant memory. A sight I could never view again with my own eyes.

I'd expected to feel some measure sorrow, loss perhaps. Maybe an inkling of self pity at the expected but still bitter loss my "disability" had afforded me. Anything at all...

In truth, I was surprised to discover just how little I cared.

This place, Wind Path, it might have been my home once, but no more.

I was strong now, commanding forces that gave even the great Kingdoms of Remnant pause. And my Master, Lucas Violette, had been true to his words all those years ago.

I'd long since grown beyond this place, and had it my way, I would never have bothered step foot here again. However, Fate, it seemed, had an amusing sense of humor when it came to such things.

Things would occur here. Victories would be had, discoveries made... Fitting, really, that the site that had marked the beginning of my journey would soon become that of what would be likely my greatest undertaking.

 _'Yes... Rather fitting indeed.'_

* * *

-END

* * *

 **OC Voice Cast introduced this Chapter**

Young Xiao Hei - Tara Strong

Ciane Skye - Erica Lindbeck

Mazon Nell - Greg Cipes

* * *

 **A/N: Hey all, losena chapter gain a chapter and I hope it was entertaining. People have been asking about Virgil for awhile, since the middle of AMBR, just seemed like a good time as he's going to be taking a more active role.**

 **Hope to update again soon, till then be awesome to each other. - Mojo**

* * *

 ** _(Next Chapter: A glimpse in the past, and trouble brewing in Mistral)_**


	23. Chapter 23

_**-AUTHOR'S NOTE-**_

 **Hey all, Mojo here. Due to an unfortunate mix up during updating, the original Chapter 4 of Team AMBR: Road to Reunion was unfortunately lost. I'm searching what files I have now but given I uploaded that chapter months ago I'm not holding out much hope. Thankfully it wasn't a chapter that directly impacts AMBR's story, merely concerning SAND, Sonia Bordeaux, Alexander Capaneus, Natalie Corbell, and Edward "Duo" Briar.**

 **While far from what I would prefer, fortunately it wasn't worse.**

 _ **Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One'**_

* * *

CLEARING THE AIR

* * *

 **(Fortress of Her Chosen Spirits - Grand Hall)**

 _Silence... How strange was it that after fighting so hard to the clang of metal on metal or the thunk of weapon against meat and bone, after the screams of anger and of dying souls torn asunder - all of it echoing chaotically - confined to the tunnels and halls of the fortress home of those that had dominated us for so long... that there was now only silence._

 _I'd expected... I didn't quite know what I expected. Laughter, cheers of relief?... Cries that freedom had finally been earned, liberation taken from the monsters that had enslaved every living soul for so so long._

 _Not this awkward pall, as though those still standing - still **breathing** \- were merely catching their breath before the next attack as they had done so many times before. Again and again in a brutal cycle, day in and day out..._

 _I was Stahl, one of the few Soul-Wielders of any potency. It was my task to be a torchbearer to my fellows. I should be strong, loud. Silence felt so... **wrong.**_

 _Though as I picked myself up from the floor using my scavenged hammer as a crutch, my dark skin was caked almost white with ash, and grit stung tears from my eyes even as they took in the scene presented before me: survivors bloodied and dirty rising from the shattered grand hall where the final battle had been brought. Lurking on the fringes amidst the broken masonry and scattered rubble, as though afraid to venture closer._

 _Foe and friend alike remained on the ground, wide-eyed and disbelieving at the sight taking place._

 _In the face of that, I realized how could there be anything **but** silence?_

 _Rowan stood there atop the shattered mound of what had once been a corrupt throne, breathing heavily in what remained of her armor. Broken, scavenged gear far too large for her frame that had been patched, only to be broken again anew. She was clinging tightly to the sword **Albion** with both hands, as though it were the only thing keeping her grounded._

 _A beautiful thing, the silvery blade a glowing beacon crackling with the potent primal energy of its wielder's soul, drawing the eye._

 _A relief from the twisted, misshapen giant it had slain now curled up at the young woman's feet: the Lord of this fortress and of the Overseers, who **had** commanded it. A servant of the Dark Goddess reshaped to do her will._

 _It had been a man once... They all had been at one point, it had been discovered, much to the horror of all. Men and women molded to resemble the Soulless creatures that they then commanded._

 _Why they'd taken so many from among their slaves - the purpose behind it - was still a mystery. Perhaps some things were best left unknown, especially when they involved such abominations._

 _Clawed, double-jointed limbs tipped in talons that could and had ripped armored warriors apart, bulging growths and protrusions that had turned the wicked thing's body into a weapon as dangerous as any blade or hammer._

 _It had been a man... but by the time the Soul Wielders had met it in battle, it had devolved into something unrecognizable and all the more terrible for it. Something that could not be allowed to survive._

 _And they had seen it dead... but not without great cost._

 _" **Viridis!** "_

 _The shrill cry arose from somewhere off to the right, shattering the pall of silence like a pane of glass rebounding throughout the cavernous space. Kara stumbled past me, half of her face obscured by stained golden hair shot through with dirtied onyx while the other was a a mask of crimson from a deep gash across her forehead._

 _She'd been thrown against a pillar, I recalled, the winds answering the call of her Gift to cushion her impact, but still left her stunned, unable to do more than watch the fight in silent awe and horror._

 _Watch the victories and the losses, both._

 _The young songstress dropped to her knees alongside Rowan's young brother, Kay, the small boy having been the first to the side of the fallen Soul Wielder, and who now held the dubious task of calming the older girl in her pain. Still, his body was little more a mangled ruin, his right arm burnt away along with most of his legs below the knees. Half of that once handsome, noble face was now a rictus mask of pained agony, while the other was little more than blackened meat._

 _Viridis had taken the creature's final desperate attack in full, a flashing crimson fire born of roiling blackness meant for their Savior, and would have almost certainly seen her dead, hope lost. He'd been there when none of us had, pushing her out of harm's way with selfless abandon, giving her the opening she'd needed to finish this._

 _I'd had never expected the other man to have been capable of such sacrifice, going by his temperament and how the two had always seemed so close to impasse at every opportunity these last days since I'd joined them._

 _Thinking back on it now, such a feeling was unworthy, and utterly disrespectful. The pair had been at odds, but had always seemed so united in their shared dream. A foil to one another like hammer and anvil. And to think he might never see it fulfilled..._

 _"He's... **He's alive! Viridis!** He's breathing, I think!... Yes! **Yes!** "_

 _A few scattered cheers met that proclamation, mostly from the mouths of those men the boy himself had led from the deep mines. How many still lived of that number, purging the last of the Goddess' foul creatures from their reclaimed prison?_

 _All those faces joined in the tidal surge to freedom as slave rose against Overseer with manic fervor brought on by that most potent mix of desperation and hope. It was impossible to know them all. Many had fallen... but enough had **lived.**_

 _Rowan seemed the most relieved of all, loosing a silent, almost imperceptible sob, kicking at the beast one final time with a bitter curse laden with disgust before looking out at the carnage our battle had wrought. She seemed so small in that moment then, the full weight of it all crashing down on those small shoulders; the indecision. Here she stood at the crux of her glory, victorious after years of sacrifice and effort against odds stacked so far against her, they might as well have been laughable._

 _Was she to make a speech? It seemed the proper thing, and the kind of reaction expected in the oldest stories. The conquering hero declaring themselves successful, singing fine words that would wind up carved into the hearts and minds of legend that would endure long after they were ashes on the winds._

 _From the look of things, she'd been expecting Viridis to do it for her, always quick with a word or diatribe. Panic flitted across her face at the hundreds of eyes upon her, the grip on her sword tightening in nervous reflex. She wanted to run, to bolt out of there, I could tell... But she couldn't._

 _Rowan was the figurehead; the symbol. The **Spark...** She'd always said as much, laughing around the fires built from broken timber and weapon hafts, sitting in the packed halls between attacks, and bolstering the morale of all with her laughter and sheer presence. She'd never thought of herself as anything more. Others had carried that ambition for her._

 _Viridis had been the mind behind the rebellion, organizing a mob of scattered broken bodies into fighters fit to stand against monsters. Harsh, perhaps, and demanding, but his simple tactics had seen more than one of those lupine monstrosities brought low on the improvised spear lines of men and women they had hunted with impunity._

 _But he **wasn't** there. And people were looking at her, expecting something... **Anything...**_

 _...It was a spur of the moment thing. Solemn, in a way, and I didn't quite know when it had happened, but suddenly, I was on the ground. Yet... I wasn't falling. I was **kneeling,** with my hammer placed before me._

 _My large frame folded in deference to the young hero standing atop a shattered throne. A leader where none was to be had. A beacon... and others followed suit. One by one, warriors knelt and bowed their heads, eyes still on the lone figure still standing in the hall with weapons proffered. Even Kara had Viridis' head in her lap, staring through tear streaked eyes at her friend, caught between bitter tears and a weary smile..._

 _And at the center of it all, Rowan's thin face paled even more so, and her mouth gaped almost comically._

 _Perhaps it was cruel, what I'd done. My friend would never thank me for it. In fact, she'd resent me for it in that hidden manner of hers for years afterwards, but I wouldn't regret it._

 _I would kneel. We would **all** kneel for only this one soul who had seen us free, and no one else... Of that, we swore silently._

 _She was our hope. She was our Spark. She was our...!?_

 _The room shuddered... No, the entire **mountain** shuddered, fortress and all. Murmured thanks turned to cries of alarm and terror both, all of them cruelly and utterly smothered by a roar that shattered the colored glass windows._

 _It was fortunate that most were already on their knees, as such a sound would have been enough to drive even the hardiest of us to them without fail._

 _Some fell, losing consciousness or worse in the face of the audial assault. For good reason._

 _It was was fear made into music, terror in tempo, death in dirge. Something I would wake to many a night in the years to follow, sweating and unable to breathe as I had been in that singular moment. But I couldn't remain still._

 _Rowan was moving undauntedly towards the shattered window and the hidden balcony that lay beyond, a perch upon which the master of this fortress could look out at the world about him, and gloat more than likely._

 _A fire burned nearby, an overturned brazier dislodged in the fighting. Holding out a hand, I drew upon the power of my soul, allowing my Gift to reach out and draw the crackling embers towards me as though they were serpents swimming through the air. As they made contact, that warmth they carried spread down my nerves like a forge spurring to all too sudden life, granting me strength and clarity._

 _It was meager, but it was enough to carry me to her side. Kara joined us moments later on eddies of summoned winds, no doubt trusting in Kay to look after the wounded Viridis. "What is it!? What's happening!?" she asked in a voice made tenuous by frayed nerves, golden eyes darting between Rowan and myself. "I-I thought we did it? We won, didn't we!? It's dead! You killed the Chosen!"_

 _"Yes... We killed that **thing,** " Rowan growled, her voice quite different from how I remembered it in all the days since she'd first pulled me from the forges. Gone was joviality; the self-assurance I usually sensed before a fight. She was serious now... Deathly so. "But the Dark Goddess is still out there, and I'm afraid we may have drawn her ire."_

 _We stepped out into the open air, the sudden chill biting even through the warmth produced by my Aura, and must have been nigh on intolerable to the two young women, but neither complained. Kara stared in open-mouthed awe at the night sky, and I realized dimly that this might well have been the first time she had ever seen it._

 _Even I was momentarily taken aback despite having memories of once living in the outside world, even if my current surroundings were at odds with recollection._

 _The fortress itself was a massive, many-tiered structure of solid grey stone built into and around the circumference of a broad mountainside, silver veins obvious even from so high up, glinting like miniature stars in moonlight. These lights served to illuminate the valley below, where the lights of fires could be seen from ramshackle camps. More slaves like us, drawn from across the land to service the needs of the Dark Goddess' chosen._

 _An entire world we'd never thought to expect or were even aware of, but they were certainly aware of us. That, or they had merely timed their rebellion in league with ours, swathes of fires bathing the surrounding forests, spanning the border of all we could see in dancing orange coronas. The aftermath of conflict._

 _"Viridis. His work." Rowan supplied the answer to my unasked question, face set stolid as silver as she observed the scene below for signs of the threat. "He found ways to spread the cause in case we failed. He sought their aid, and they actually answered us... Incredible... I might never have believed...!"_ _Her whole demeanor shifted from hope to fury, sparks dancing across her skin in a brilliant flash that set the both of her friends back a few steps. " **There! Right there!** "_

 _I followed her gaze to where the shattered moon hung above, a trio of dark shadows marring the soft surface, growing more and more visible by the second. Two were avian in aspect, wingspans so large that as they drew closer, I could make out the shadows passing underneath them along the rustling tree tops like living clouds. Beaks that could snatch a man up whole screeching and yowling their excitement into the night._

 _Monsters... Utter **monsters.**_

 _Yet terrible as these were, they were as nothing to the prodigious creature easily twice their size flying in the center of the formation. A sight to make the blood run cold. The death of hope in living form._

 _"...What is that?" I asked, surprisingly calm given the monumental threat before us. I would take pride in that. "Rowan, that thing..."_

 _"Retribution, Stahl..." she replied softly, straightening to her full somewhat unimpressive height. " **Her** retribution."_

 _Gliding on membranous pinions tipped with claws easily the size of a man, it came on. Reptilian scales gleamed darkly among the stars accentuated by armored plates the color of old bone, a mouth filled with rows and rows of fangs opening wide to loose another bellowing roar that put every soul for miles on its knees from the pain._

 _Every soul except for Rowan, that is, the young woman staring back at the drakon with **Albion** clutched loosely at her side._

 _"How?..." Kara breathed slowly, following their progress from where she had fallen, having drawn in on herself involuntarily as the winds shifted about her gently as though its caress might serve to bolster her. It didn't work... "H-how are we supposed to fight that!? We can't...! We won't be able to...!"_

 _She was right. Rowan herself might still stand tall, but the rest of us - the rest of her forces - were on their last gasps. From the air, even one of those foul Soulless would have been enough to see us destroyed. I'd only heard whispered tales of such beings as the bird-like terrors, coined as winged harbingers of a Goddess' displeasure._

 _We had defied her. We had slain her Champion. And so..._

 _"...So this is what they meant, then?" We turned in shock as Rowan strode to the balcony's edge, glancing down at her free hand as motes of flickering blue energy crackled between her splayed fingertips. "This... **This** is what it's for?... I understand now... I heard your call... It just wasn't time."_

 _"Understand what? What are you...!?"_

 _It was pointless. I knew that the moment I'd opened my mouth._ _She'd gone mad with fear, talking to herself, reassuring something unseen behind closed eyelids and a now outstretched palm._

 _It was too much, and in the meantime, the formation above had splintered, the twin Harbingers descending forwards towards where we stood out in the open, the Drakon remaining in reserve as though it were one of the Overseer Lords observing an execution with obvious glee._

 _It would watch us fall, and then turn its attentions to those of the valley below, before finally tearing this fortress apart piece by piece, until it was certain dissent was pulled up root and stem._

 _They were drawn to her, to Rowan and the slow build of... **something** stirring itself awake within her. Like a brewing storm I'd witnessed so many years ago before I was taken.I heard a palpable thrumming in the air around her, singing to something within my soul._

 _I felt... **calm,** impossible as it was. My power, pushed to the brink by the day's desperation, felt replenished, restored by dint of her presence. But death still came unbowed, rending talons now visible in the moonlight. As were the gleaming, fiery coals of their hate-filled gaze._

 _A presence lingered behind them. An elder presence filled with bitterness and negativity, alongside a potent disgust for all things. Kara evidently didn't feel that same calm, her whole body trembling as she stared that evil in the eye, and found herself wanting. She didn't run, and as far as I am aware, she would vow never to fail in such a way again. But tonight..._

 _"Rowan!?"_

 _The girl gave no sign she'd heard her friend's desperate plea, mumbling under her breath, eyes still closed and heedless of the violent end hurtling towards them on black wings. They were so close. Close enough to feel the beating of their wings, the smell of their corpse odor and the acidic tang of their breath, though I knew of no such things then. Just that they were moments from swallowing us whole, moments from our end._

 _" **Rowan!?** "_

 _Rowan's eyes snapped open, and our world exploded in a ***BOOM*** of light and sound beyond anything either of us had ever experienced before. Power called from the heavens themselves fell in an instant to collide with both monsters with the force of a hammer blow. Kara was blinded, tears streaming from her eyes as she cried out noiselessly in the face of flickering after images._

 _As for me, the ringing in my ears stole everything. Everything but the woman before us astride a devastated balcony... No, **floating** gently above it._

 _Her whole body was cloaked as though she wore a living storm as her mantle. Her hair, now almost in full the stark white as opposed to a few loose strands that had streaked the black before, billowed about her face made wild by the energy thrumming within it._

 _Energy burned from her eyes in streams of blue and crimson power, crackling light that didn't quite hide her own wide-eyed amazement as she turned her head to regard us._

 _Of the beasts, there was little sign but ashes on the wind, and the distant crumple of something impacting into the mountain below us._

 _"R-Rowan?" I stammered, clutching hold of Kara to keep her balanced, or perhaps to keep myself upright, the both of us blinking away tears in our attempts to make sense of this. "...H-how?"_

 _"...It's springtime. I don't know how I know that... But it is." She looked at herself, her clenched fist opening to reveal the humming force of the elements combined with her own gift._

 _Magic. It could only be described as **magic.**_

 _"It chose me. Awakened my Aura... And then it slumbered until it was needed. New beginnings, change and renewal... It tells me something."_

 _The Maiden spared a glance for the Drakon, the abomination once more roaring its hatred for all the world to hear. But unlike before, it seemed piteously small. Rowan's Aura beat back the harshness of the sound, smothering it in elemental potency all its own._

 _ **Albion** was sheathed in an oppressive spectrum of light from gentle blue to daring scarlet, its length almost seeming to double between watering blinks. Its true form, though it was almost impossible to regard with any certainty._

 _My master, Albin, had crafted the blade with Rowan in mind. The arts he'd employed that allowed it to direct her own considerable powers before - the sciences - were utterly lost on me, and now likely lost to time as well now that he was gone. But not even **he** could have expected this._

 _Just being near it was enough to set my nerves on edge and my teeth chattering, Kara's hair a bedraggled mess that drew a heartfelt laugh from Rowan's lips._

 _"It tells me..."_

 _The momentary smile faded, only to be replaced with a look of utter confidence and determination in the face of this new foe. It was at once so perfectly Rowan, but so perfectly unlike anything I'd seen of the girl previously._

 _It was her, but not at the same time... And it was both beautiful and terrible._

 _"... **WE**_ ** _DO NOT END HERE!_** _"_

 _With that declaration, she leapt from the balcony and soared, buoyed by the storm clouds of her impossible power. **Albion** turned her into a thrumming star that soared for the beast now reeling to form some kind of response. Never in its long memory had it faced such a thing. Not here, not now, but there it was... There it __was!_

 _"Rowan!?" Kara cried out helplessly, pushing me off of her as she sprinted for the edge, as though thinking she might join her in the sky._

 _In time it would be possible, but not now. Not at her level of strength. Tonight, all she could do was come up short, watching the battle that would see the thing known as Bastion, and the legend of its Queen, write itself into legend._

 _" **Rowan!?** "_

* * *

 _ **-Joel Ambrose-**_

 **(Kingdom of Mistral, Anima - Misshū Wilds)**

"...Uh, Joel!?"

I blinked away the fading afterimages of a night sky torn asunder by lighting flashes and the shrill howls of nightmares, a voice calling me back. Familiar, raised in panic...

 _'Why? What was I...?'_

Wind was whipping at my face and tugging at my scarf, bitingly cold while something thrummed beneath me. Foreign warmth pressed itself tight to my back... Soft...

Riding. I was astride _Thunder,_ riding through the woods with a passenger bundled up in at least three coats on the back, but what...!?

" _Remnant to Joel! WAKE UP!_ "

"Wha...!? L-Liz!?"

I shook my head out, spitting white hairs just like hers from my mouth as I glanced over my shoulder. Elizabeth's face stared back at me in horror, green eyes wide with panic as she screamed something unintelligible over the rushing winds, and the sudden ringing in my skull.

It was as if I'd just sat front row to a thunder strike. Had I...? No, not me. _Not me!_

"What'd you say!? I didn't hear...!"

My voice was hoarse from disuse, throat parched. I didn't feel quite right, head spinning. The last thing I remembered was entering the forest as a shortcut from the main road, saving us two day's winding through the middle of nowhere on our way towards what _should_ be the trade outpost of Kakurega, at least according to the map and supported by my nigh-impeccable sense of direction.

With any luck, we'd be able to hole up for a few days along the outskirts in one of Marigold's emergency boltholes, and take a needed breather and let Liz recover from the harsh pace we'd set since Akai-Hana.

We'd barter for some supplies in the adjoining village with what little Lien we had, look around for any useful rumors or information, before we would continue on our way to Wind Path, and hopefully more leads on our quarry.

White Fang in Mistral. You'd think they'd be easier to track down, being the hub for scum and villainy that it was beneath the glitz and glamour... Anyway, simple plan. Easy. So why...!?

" _...ATCH...REE!_ " Liz actually headbutt me, snapping my neck back painfully and forcing me to look forward, the sudden blow having the benefit of clearing my head...and clearing her meaning. " _TREE!_ "

"Oh, _SHI...!?_ "

I banked right hard, narrowly missing the broad trunk of a ice-riddled oak by scant feet, and barreling our way down a steep ridge line, wheels juddering sharply over snowy bluffs and overgrown root patterns.

Branches snapped at my jacket and Aura as I did my best to shield my screaming passenger, and keep the motorbike somewhat stable and on course, reflex and instinct from Yang's lessons taking over automatically.

I leaned left to avoid a patch of stone that would have impaled us both, ducked low whilst tugging my partner's head down with me to pass underneath a fallen log barring our path, and reared back to catch a ramp at just the right angle to send us flying above a thicket of brambles with thorns the size of my finger.

It wasn't perfect, and certainly not comfortable as the back wheel caught on something with a wet crunch and something that sounded scarily like a snarl... It was all utter panic and chaos until we found ourselves pulling to a stop at the bottom of the gulch.

In retrospect, it was _awesome..._ In _retrospect..._

In the moment, I was caught between stunned relief and irritated annoyance at anything and everything. Sparks danced across my fingertips, just like _her_. The thought alone made me wince.

"Joel..." Liz leaned back, drawing in breath after gulping in a breath before kicking me so hard in the back of my shin, I was actually surprised one of us didn't break. It hurt, but it still felt distant, though. Detached. " _Joel!_ What the _actual_ fuck!?"

"I-I-I don't...! Did... D-did you see what we hit!? I think we might've...! Agh, _tysh ed!_ " The sparks vanished as I clenched my fist, willing my Aura back under my control. _My_ control, no one else's. No one else's... "Liz!? Liz, you see anything!? Liz, you good?"

Her groan was enough of an answer to that. No way she'd have made a peep if she'd actually been harmed. That was a relief, then. Nothing happened. _Nothing happened..._

...This time.

"Might've... Might've been an Ursa, I think." She clambered off as deftly as she could without the use of her arms, going through a few familiar breathing exercises, glaring up at the mess we'd made of Mother Nature on our descent. "Sure as shit's dead now, though. Y'know, like we should probably be! Again, the _fuck!?_ "

"Sorry, sorry!" I raised a free hand, kneading my forehead with the other. More images floated through my imagination without a shred of context. A fallen reptilian Grimm. A woman being raised on the grubby hands of thousands looking to her with awe. An awkward conversation in a dreary tent with a crippled childhood friend...

"I must've nodded off, I think. My bad. I should've had you take last watch like you...!?"

"Cut the Grimm-spit, Joel! You're a great fighter, but a shit liar! Marigold had me be the face and you the fist for a reason, remember!?" She crouched down on her haunches in the thin snowfall, shaking her head, and attempting to blow a few loose strands of purplish black hair that had fallen loose out of her face. I moved to help her, frowning when she shook her head to ward me off. "You 'nodded off' like you did in Akai-Hana again, didn't you!? And those times before, right!?"

"It wasn't like...?"

"Oh, so _you_ kissed me back at the Fox out of nowhere?" She straightened, puffing out her chest and giving me her finest attempt at a grinning glare. I had to be thankful her Aura was still shot, or I was damn certain I'd be pissing myself via her Semblance already. "Interesting. _Very_ interesting."

" _Grrrgh..._ I told you already!" My face warmed involuntarily, hand going to the scarf in a reflexive attempt to cover up that I barely stopped. Liz knew already, even without my help. "I don't even remember doing that! But it doesn't mean...!"

"Oh my, so it wasn't even that memorable?" She turned her nose up, looking so much like Weiss in that instant I had to do a double take. " _Jerk!_ "

"I didn't mean... Wait, _what!?_ Are you pissed at me or not!?"

"Huh, I dunno. What do you think?"

"I don't know _what_ to think! That's part of the problem!"

"Hmm, likely excuse."

"I...!?"

I clapped a hand to my forehead to stop myself before I said something stupid I'd regret. Liz. I hated how easily she could rile me up, how she knew the best ways to needle past my best defenses. And I had to admit, I loved it about her, too. It was something she and Yang had in common, that passion.

"...Look, it's... It's hard to put into words exactly..."

" _Try_." She wouldn't let it go, and she'd only torture me slowly until I told the truth, even if I barely had any inkling of what the truth was to begin with. "And just to get this outta the way, I take it that you haven't suddenly fallen head over heels for me again? 'Cause just saying, that'd be all kinds of awkward, especially after Bastion."

"Yes. I mean, no!... No, I still stand by that. I'm with Yang, and until she wants otherwise, I'm going to stand by her. That thing in Akai-Hana, that wasn't..." I took a deep breath, finally admitting it to myself as well as to my friend. "...That _wasn't_ me. It was something else... _Someone_ else."

"Well, obviously." She let out a snide chuckle at my raised eyebrow, blowing a raspberry my way in that playful condescending manner she had. "You've never moved like that, and good as you are, that Grimm should've ripped you apart. That and unless Xiao Long's been holding out on me, you weren't that good of a kisser." She blushed. That, in a way, was more surprising than just about anything else today, and certainly enough to have me gaping. "Not bad, I mean, but not _that_ good."

"Uh... Thanks, I think?"

I eased back against the bike, the gyro-stabilizer groaning under my weight. I'd have to tweak that again, before long. After stunts like the one I'd just pulled, it was a miracle the bike was still intact after all these months, let alone running. Still running...

I reached down and felt for the weapon at my side, turning _Storm Song_ and the crystal at its center so Liz could get a proper look.

"This is... My grandfather gave it to me before he... before he passed." The words were halting, and I hated that, something whispering at the back of my mind screaming for me to stop. Several somethings, all clamoring at once... but I ignored them. They weren't the ones in control. "He named it the ' _Heart of Rowan,_ ' and it's... Well, I'm not really sure _what_ it is, truth be told, but it isn't Dust. It strengthens my Semblance like some kind of battery, allowing me to store and draw power in a pinch, just like he told me. And by her blood, it feels _incredible._ "

It was a small thing, to run a current of electricity down the length of my pale arm. The display was effortless and instinctual, the crystal lighting up with crackling blue veins darting across a glittering surface.

"But... I've been getting these dreams, flashes, I don't know how best to describe them. I see sights I can't ever have imagined. Know things that should be impossible for me to know..."

"Get possessed by weird, sexually aggressive spirits out to get their jollies off?" she said flatly, the joke not at all hiding her concern. "Yeah, I noticed. 'Akan,' right? Can't say I understand what the hell you were saying, but that got across. Screaming it, more like."

"That's... He's the only one like that, I think." I reached up to scratch at an itch nagging the back of my head, the old habit reassuring in a way I'd never truly appreciated. "And he's the only one who's done _that -_ taken over - at least as far as I know. Grandpa didn't mention this bit."

Old bastard. He knew. How could he not? He'd carried the _Heart_ years before I was even born, since after the Night of Falling Silver according to what I knew of his old weapon. Years to feel the effects, to go through this, and he hadn't seen fit to warn me.

Not even giving me a choice. Classic Kenneth Ambrose. Stubborn, selfish, old...!?

"So there's more? More of these, er... 'flashes?'" She frowned as I nodded, certain of the answer even if I didn't know how I was. 'Kara,' 'Stahl,' 'Akan...' These and other names sprang to mind, each names of figures I'd known about since childhood. Heroes and legends of Bastion; people that had no business being in my head. "Does it... I dunno, hurt? When it happens, I mean? Are you aware or...?"

"No, I wasn't. One minute I'm fighting that Grimm, getting thrown round, and then... this voice. _His_ voice in my head. Next thing I know, I'm standing in front of you half-naked, a second or two right before I get cold cocked." She snickered, tapping her foot in the ground at the memory, hiding her worry. "Good hit, by the way. Didn't say it before.

 ** _-"Indeed! A splendid strike! I can almost feel the lust...!"-_**

I bit my lip hard at the sudden and very much foreign declaration racing at the speed of thought, heart pounding like a drum tempo in my chest, every scrap of will devoted to crushing the notion before it could spread.

 ** _-"...You called to me, Pup, not the other way around! Our blood is the same, our spirits bound...!"-_**

 _' **SHUT UP!** ' _Peace and quiet reigned once more, or as peaceful and quiet as I could expect my mind to be.

Akan... The thing pretending to be the most hallowed Champion of the Conquering Queen. The first Chief to unite the clans of what would become Safehold, and the strongest _Rhidan_... the strongest warrior the Frontier had ever known, who had torn apart the mightiest and most terrible of Grimm with his bare hands and dauntless ferocity.

The most noble and honorable of Rowan's Cadre...was supposedly this lecherous, adrenaline-crazed moron...

A distant relation on my grandfather's side, same as Rowan, if one believed all the tripe about the Blood, the lines stretching back generations. Our blood is the same...

All of this - that internal struggle - was in the span of barely more than a second, and Liz noticed... Of course she did. "Hey, I better still be speaking to my partner, asshole! Screw off!"

 ** _-"Oh, I do care for this one. She'd make a fine bride..."-_**

"Yeah, yeah, it's still me, Liz. I'm fine." I tried to make it sound convincing, not at all caring for the way her eyes narrowed. In that moment, I knew she was verifying, checking every little check box Marigold had ever taught her to look for. And with a simple curt nod, I miraculously seemed to pass muster. "Akan, he's... louder than the others. I don't know if that means anything, but... Gods, this all sounds so crazy."

"We can't afford crazy, Joel. Not out here in the middle of nowhere. And power boost or not, if you happen to check out in the middle of a fight...!?"

 ** _-"Feh... She should be so fortunate. I might just...!"-_**

" _It won't!_ "

She flinched back, and I immediately regretted raising my voice, drawing in a long, slow intake of air before continuing. "It won't. I won't let it. Never again." And I meant it, too, vehemently. Hero or not, the smug savage was going to have a time wresting control the next time he wanted to take my body for a joyride.

"My team needs me, not some long dead remnant."

 ** _-"Ooh, that cuts deep! You might have some bite in you after all, Pup! More than that wastrel Kenneth did, at least. A thin blooded son of mine, he was. Bleeding coward needed a kick to the stones and a talking to every time he..."-_**

 _'Finish that sentence, ghost-thing. See what happens!'_

We might not have seen eye to eye on a lot of things, and our reconciliation towards the end could barely even be considered that. But I was going to be damned if I allowed a word of disgrace from this... _Oh..._

 _'...So, he **did** know. Bastard.'_

Funny, no response to that...by Her Blood I was losing my damned mind...

"You're still on about that?" Looking up, I noticed Liz glaring at me quizzically. Thankfully, this time she seemed more focused on what I'd said rather than what I was doing. "Carson's playing Specialist in Atlas. He's waaay beyond us. And I know you want to believe the Faunus and the runt are still kicking, but Joel, we're talking about _APEX,_ here. You know them, and how they operate. It's been months... _Months._ The chances of finding any trace of them - hell, of them even being _alive_ \- are almost..."

"I can't worry about that," I cut her off, catching her stare and holding it with one of my own. I wasn't angry - not at her, at least - nor was I afraid. Not of this, anyway. "I can't afford to let myself worry about that. We get you better, we head to Wind Path to get our answers, and then move from there. Reasoning and _this..._ " I unclipped _Storm Song,_ and flipped it in hand. "...All that comes later. Focus on what matters now."

We stood stock still for a long time, each one of us regarding the other. Two Trappers, two young people trying to commit to a task that seemed beyond men and women with twice their years and experience.

The things even Kingdoms struggled with... and she chuckled. Outright laughed, even. A short, clipped thing, but that smile was worth the embarrassment.

"Least now I know it really is you. Only Ambrose is that stupidly stubborn." I sighed, tension I didn't know I was holding back easing from taught muscles. _Storm Song_ returning to my belt with a reassuring click, one that seemed enough to silence Akan for the moment at least. "Gimme a sec. Just need to stretch the kinks out a tad. Especially if you're gonna be driving like that again any time soon. And there's this damn itch..."

"Sure thing. Take what you need."

I rubbed at my eyes and waved her off, turning aside to study the rustling in the trees, and not the lithe figure grumbling under her breath as she was forced to find a nearby tree. She wouldn't want my help.

Not right now, and not when she was still so unsure about me. And I couldn't blame her, the scope of a whole new problem coming to bite me in the rear.

"I can keep quiet around Xiao Long."

I blinked, tugging at the scarf hanging about my neck, enjoying the warmth, and wondering if she still carried... No, not important right now. Focus. Liz was walking back, seemingly satisfied and waiting for me to mount the bike so she could clamber on.

"The kiss, I mean. I won't spread it around if you don't. Stupid slip in a desperate situation, and it apparently wasn't even you behind the steering wheel, _sooooo...?_ "

"Ah, don't bother. Still my screw up in the end," I groaned, doing the best I could to make it easier for her, taking a trembling hand and guiding her up behind me, even that small shaking movement a good sign.

She was healing. Another week, maybe a few days, and then... What?

Marigold hadn't exactly been specific about that stage of the recovery. Liz didn't appear worried, and she was the _Infusion_ expert between us.

"When I see Yang again, I'd rather not have something stupid like that hanging over us. Should come from me. It's only right." I settled, about to turn the ignition, pausing before looking back at the sly smirk she wore. "You were going to tell her if I said yes, weren't you?"

I didn't need a 'yes.' That look gave me all the confirmation I needed and more. "C'mon, Joel, gotta support my fellow woman here. What kind of friend would I be if I let something like _that_ slide? Hmm?"

"Oh, so you're 'friends' now? That's a scary improvement." She tensed, knees crashing into my sides with enough force to leave me wheezing. Still, not like I was gonna give her the satisfaction, smiling through the ache. "Thanks, Liz. Really, I mean it. You keep me honest." We stared at one another for a few moments longer than was perhaps appropriate, green meeting blue conveying all the emotions between each before breaking off. I couldn't help myself, laughing as I clutched the throttle for support. "Oh, by her blood, that sounds weird to say out loud."

" _Rrgh..._ Don't push it, Ambrose. Just wait till I...!?"

The slightest crunch of snowflakes underfoot, the subtle creak of a branch bearing weight...

We both picked up on such signs and more in the same instant and the change was instantly apparent, Trapper-honed senses reaching out on high-alert as treated muscles eased into a state of readiness. Reflexes and reactions honed by Aura, training, and other less acceptable means standing ready for... Ready for what?

"I count maybe... seven. No, eight," Liz murmured under her breath so softly, it would have been impossible for anyone to have heard it but me, even if they'd stood directly in front of us. "Three in the trees, the rest on the ground." It was an old habit - _very_ old - the relaying of information. The analysis of the moment before the storm hit. Familiar, though not in any way I'd relished... at least not now. "Do we make a break for it?"

"Closer to ten, I think. They're good - really good - but there's something else. That kind of precision... No, they've got us surrounded. We got careless."

"I know that much. They waited till we were back on the bike before they made a move." She eased into my back, stuttering fingers making for the large knife sheathed at her thigh beneath the coats. I could swear I heard her frown through my focus, the twang of muscle in her face in the cool air. "...Wait, animals?... No, what are they wearing, furs? And this movement is way too neat, even for White Fang... Joel?"

" _Thomas._ " I grimaced in reply, heart rate spiking as I snatched Yang's scarf from around my neck, and quickly wound it about my right arm, working subtly as I could, but making sure the spiked moon emblem of Aegis emblazoned on the arm was covered tight. "And it's not the Fang. It's worse than that. _Much_ worse. Follow my lead."

"What do you mean follow...!?"

She clamped her mouth shut tight, eyes widening in alarm at the loose ring of broad-shouldered men and women suddenly in our midst. Appearing almost to melt from the tree line and snow drifts.

Ten in all, draped in heavy furs to ward off the cold, bound across body suits of boiled leather and hide clinging tight to heavily muscled frames, daubed with painted markings and other sigils.

Each soul was at least the equal or superior in height to men like Cardin Winchester or myself, most far larger. Wooden totems and rings of fangs jangling silently against furred patches to minimize noise, ritually scarred faces leering at us impassively from beneath hoods, following our every move with silver-tipped spears and bows at the ready.

Then came the dogs, the _Hunds,_ a bloody pair of them made almost invisible against the snowfall by nature of their fur and soft movements. Massive canine things close to a horse in size, slinking closer on powerful limbs, ears flicked back against their scalps, and teeth the length of my finger bared in challenge.

Now they were seen, so they allowed themselves to be heard, a low bass rumble that carried from broad throats. The sound of it enough to pop our eardrums and set our lungs quivering.

"Oh... Yeah, I see what you mean now. Just our luck."

* * *

-END

* * *

 **A/N: Hey all, wow it's been awhile. Plenty of stuff going on, life's crazy, and it's going pretty good all things considered. Side note, was wondering how people liked the last chapter concerning Virgil, been awhile since I pulled out one of those Memory chapters, any questions or points people want to bring up all ya gotta do is ask.  
**

 **As for THIS chapter, kind of wanted to dive back in on how our kids in Mistral werr doing, and drop a big bit of plot that's been buying for a bit on the visions Joel's been having.**

 **Yep, turns out Rowan, Conquering Queen of the Frontier and it's Saviour, was a former Maiden. The Spring to be exact, wielding all the power and magic that came with it.**

 **On that note I'll head these points off early, just in case**

 **\- Joel and the rest of the Ambrose line are descended from a Maiden.**

 **\- No, that does not mean he will be wielding Maiden powers, he just shares the Family Semblance, not to say this won't prove important later.**

 **We good? All right just had to make that clear. Anyway thanks for the continued support and I hope to be updating again soon once the RWBY bug hits again with Volume 6. Peace. - Mojo**

* * *

 ** _(Next Chapter: A thief in the night, a face from the past)_**


	24. Chapter 24

_**Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_

* * *

STEALING AWAY

* * *

 _ **-Ciane Skye-**_

 _"...When it comes to existence on Remnant, you have two kinds, Skye...the ones that eat, and those that get eaten..."_

A simple bit of advice, and common enough as well. Similar adages existed throughout the Kingdoms, dozens if not hundreds of ways to get across the same basic idea to a host of people that think they understand. That they have it figured out, and they might.

...To a point.

Of course, only rarely does anyone really think about what a statement like that actually means until one's entire life revolves around the concept. Let alone that mankind's status as a species pretty much depended on straddling that precarious balance on a near-daily basis.

End of the day, you had the winners, and inevitably the losers. The predators, and the prey. Hunter, and Hunted...

Which was exactly why I was the one tracking my quarry, weaving my winding way through the busy streets of Wind Path's central market with the ease of one who'd long since made it her hunting ground, and not the poor lumbering fool being tailed by a beauty so far out of his league in both looks and brains, it almost made me feel bad...

 _Almost._ I still had to get paid after all. And just like the adage said, a girl's gotta eat, right?

Wasn't my fault this idiot, and those even bigger idiots he worked for, held onto something the Kage wanted... or wanted back, truth be told. Just as it wasn't my problem that they'd been stupid enough to take the Kage's offer of alliance at their word as a symbol of sincerity in the first place, and then have the audacity to turn around and try to pull a fast one, not content with the tiny bit of territory they'd been so graciously offered. They'd tried expanding.

 _'Brave idiots, then... Perfect.'_

Maybe they were just confident? It wasn't like the Kage would seek to get rid of them permanently after all, brave idiots they might be. Those devious minds that ran the Kage usually saved such distasteful dealings for those no longer useful, or best put aside.

In any case, this particular batch of idiots were the more fortunate sort. Those with a fair few connections and resources the Kage would need them still breathing to take full advantage of. After a proper example had been set for others, of course. Like the damned Spiders...

 _'Can't have competition, no sir.'_

And that was where people like myself came into the picture...

My Mark fidgeted, gazing around at the surroundings, one hand wiping at a sweating brow before adjusting the hooded cloak he wore and hastening his pace, forcing me to spur myself on in kind.

Normally, the sight of a hooded figure hurrying down a busy causeway ought to have made this easier, but this was Wind Path, after all. And my quarry wasn't the only one looking to avoid the attention of onlookers this evening.

Myself for one, a grin spreading in the shadow of my own hood, tanned cloak fluttering in the breeze over a form-fitting tunic and thigh-length leggings of various shades of blue, all the better to blend into the night if things ran long. Which they might, if Stupid here didn't pick up the pace a bit.

This fellow was good, though, or at least not that bad, I'd give him that much. Mixing in with groups of similarly adorned souls before thinking to slip into one of the adjacent side alleys, wanting to turn any potential pursuers onto one of the others, perhaps lose himself in the lights and shouts. Shame for him, I had a bit of a slightly unfair advantage in that regard.

While most looking at him would have seen just another dark-hued hood in the crowd no different from any other, I didn't just call him a ' _Mark_ ' for jargon's sake.

Blinking, I reached out instinctively with my senses, both natural and soulful, feeling the presence of the Auratic ' _Torch_ ' I'd embossed against his cloak earlier in the day burning like a signal beacon to my awareness.

Amazing what one touch, a moment of contact as he'd 'bumped' into a frazzled young woman on his way out from lunch with contacts - both Kage incognito, of course, planted to get him out in the open for me - could do.

That was all it had taken. And suddenly, I had an all too obvious trail to follow right back to his hideout.

Sorta took the fun out of it, really, but why work hard from the get-go?

 _'That bit comes later.'_

Right now I had to focus, following the embedded torch as it guided me through the winding maze of alleys and side streets for a long while, at one point leaving me wondering if I hadn't underestimated the poor fool after all, and he knew he had a tail.

That, or he was just particularly paranoid, which, knowing what he and his buddies had pulled, made plenty of sense.

One didn't cross the Kage without repercussions, after all.

Thankfully, it seemed it was the latter, the target leading me slowly but surely towards a section of storage houses, large structures of dense wood towering over the closely packed ramshackle buildings which usually reserved for storing the cargo of incoming transports and such.

Stopping at one furthest down the row and slightly more dilapidated than the others, he knocked frantically at a side door, beginning a short but what looked to be a rather animated conversation with the soul who answered. The sight of him...

 _'By the gods...'_

A brutish fellow of the typical goon variety, if absolutely gigantic, no doubt hired as much for his appearance as his skill. Standing easily a head over the target, forearms bearing biceps the size of my head, straining at the fine dark leather jacket and tunic he wore that appeared as though they'd had to be extensively modified to fit him. His face was sun kissed and downright feral, long hair pulled back from his face to reveal nasty facial scars that seemed just a bit too orderly to not be intentional.

Definitely weird. Probably a Huntsman or something similar. A dropout, more likely than not, if unlike any I'd seen before.

Still, if the plan worked I would't get the chance to test my little theory out. Best to avoid trouble, and those who tended to carry it with them.

Vaguely, I thought back to the moments where I'd encountered such people, those times thankfully few and far between. Mostly soldiers, mercenaries, the occasional bandit or Huntsmen... Definitely had to watch for Huntsmen.

A shiver ran down my spine at the memory of a lone Huntsman, standing completely at ease as he held me and a half dozen others captive at the hands of an empty violet gaze...

Clearing my head with a quick shake, I realized my mark had retreated inside along with his fellow, leaving the street quite devoid of activity.

Well, devoid except for a few wayward dock workers in their grubby uniforms and coveralls marching wearily home from their hours long shifts. A fair few waved their goodbyes, splitting of from the group, and making their way towards me, evidently intent on a bit of nighttime entertainment back in the direction of the commercial districts.

One of whom caught my eye, urging me around the corner and into the open.

"Y'know, ya really ought to ditch that junk perfume when you go out, Boss."

A well-muscled youth, tousled chestnut brown hair streaked liberally with gold hanging about his chin in curls. Bared to the waist except for an oil stained tank-top, and not even bothering to conceal the thick patches of hair across his chest and forearms. The upper half of his coveralls flapped about his waist as he moved towards me, a wide, toothy grin with too sharp teet stretching itself across his face at the sight of me, golden eyes twinkling mischievously despite the hand going to his nose.

"Stinks to high heavens. Could smell ya from half a block away."

"Speak for yourself, Teddy Bear. They have you carting fish around or something?" I replied playfully with an exaggerated sniff, smirking at the tick in his brow and the telltale self-conscious twitch of his nose, however much he tried to resist the urge. "Busy day?"

My hand rose, my eyes focusing on one last glimpse at the Aura beacon, now burning along the upper floors of the warehouse, overlaying its location with the suspected layout I could remember from other such storage areas I'd worked in the past, both legitimately and less so.

"More shipments from outside the city, all addressed to our mutual 'friends.'" A nod towards the warehouse, now confirmed by my own efforts as the target. "No idea on the what or who, but it's a hell of a lot, and more than even the Kage suspects. No idea how they pulled that bit off," the Bear Faunus groaned, raising his own hand after a slight hesitation. I didn't blame him, any plans he had for enjoying himself afterwards probably were going to fall through after this.

"Be careful now, something's different with this lot, and I'm not just talking 'bout the size of 'em. We can't exactly afford another screw-up."

Perfect, as if the bonfire during my last job had been entirely my fault. That's what you get when you give a trigger happy idiot a flamethrower and a bunch of hoarded Dust, and you don't bother informing the Shadow you send about either or.

"Hey, it's ' _me,_ ' not 'we.' You guys won't have anything to worry about even if something does go wrong, which it won't. We checked our balances, kept our eyes open. We've got this. Now, you ready?"

Not the most reassuring sentiment, probably, but it put my friend's mind at ease as he clapped his hand against mine, maintaining physical contact. Cyan energy mixed with sunbursts of pink drifting off my skin before fading into nothingness.

I had a brief moment of clarity as I drew upon my Aura, and the next the beacon cast by Mark vanished from sight and awareness as a hum of pleasent warmth traveled up my arm from his, suffusing my body with renewed vigor; a sort of emotional thrum building in my chest. Altogether different from what had been present before. I felt strong, confident, nervous... Hmm?

I quirked my head, glaring at the bear Faunus before quickly squashing that last emotion with a furrowed brow and a *tsk.*

"S-Sorry." The boy on the other hand staggered back shakily, and might have toppled over entirely if I hadn't struggled to keep him upright, snatching hold of his wrist this time, his bulk almost carrying us both to the ground. "Can't help it."

"I'll be careful, Mika. Promise."

"Holding you to that, Skye. Good luck." The Faunus forced another grin, staggering off into the swiftly falling veil of night, my eyes tracking him until he was safely out of sight.

Then I rounded on the storehouse itself, adjusting the fit of the enameled gauntlets I wore as I drew in a deep steadying breath, sliding my cloth mask into place over the lower half of my face, and drawing my hood tighter about my features.

 _'Luck, huh?'_

I smiled then, unable to help myself. The expression was just like the one my old mentor used to whenever he was about to do something clever... and probably unbearably stupid. At least I considered him a mentor.

He'd have hated the idea if he'd stuck around long enough. Of course, he'd never have counseled me attending those first months at Haven, either, or dropping out. Certainly not dragging my feet back to this cesspit of a township.

Enough of the past, the doubts... A pair of shining curved steel blades a palm's length springing from slide rails on the bracers I wore underneath my robe's wide sleeves, glinting wickedly in the failing sunlight as I turned and flexed my arms wide, testing the familiar weight.

 _'Who needs luck when you've got skill, after all?'_

* * *

 _ **-Reika Murasaki-**_

" _R-_ Reika! Reika, stop this! You don't need to...!?"

"..."

 _"It won't work! It's too... too easy! Please, just think for a mom... AH!_ "

I steeled myself, and kept to the dull granite steps that constituted the drab tunnel ahead, bare except for the occasional worn tidal design or eye motif similar to all the others littered across the Port Settlement.

Eyes shut, utterly refusing to look back even as I heard my friend's stuttering steps echo behind me as he stumbled over his tattered robes.

Like me, the Horo-Sha had been forced to adapt, discarding his furs and thick woolens down to the essentials as I had most of my added armor and outer layers, the humidity and close quarters nature of the Port settlement making wearing anything heavier than a shawl rather uncomfortable. Unless, of course, one was a Captain, and held themselves above such petty concerns in the name of appearance.

Pino was still getting used to all the skin, especially from me. My new shorts and a top form-fitting to the point of making my face warm when one of the other female Striders tossed it my way, made up of a sleek, dark-colored mesh that was supposed to help in the water, with barely visible purple wavelike designs along the shoulders and back that emitted a soft glow in the dim light I'd come to find pretty if somewhat counterintuitive to stealth.

Which of course wasn't the purpose after all.

Suffice it to say, I'd done my best to add belts, pouches, and a light violet half skirt cut from my Yukata to the ensemble to cover up the majority of what skin showed. The whole of the outfit felt little better than beachwear, or what I assumed beachwear would be, having never actually owned a swimming suit.

Now if only I didn't feel my friend was looking anywhere else but at me... the burn scars lingering beneath the material prickling noticeably.

 _'Let him be embarrassed. I don't care, I don't care, I don't...'_

"...?"

Alright, so I _miiiiight_ have taken a quick peek to make sure he hadn't tumbled down the stairs and hurt himself, but aside from that I was set... _Definitely_ set. This was no time to doubt...

The possibility of escape; freedom. That precious commodity that this barbaric cesspit of a city had espoused with its flaunting of convention and reason, only to declare captives as little above indentured help or worse. People whose only crime was to lose.

 _''Bnela...' Ridiculous. Might as well say 'slave, and be truthful...'_

For weeks, I'd considered my options, the possibilities and plans coming one after the next.

The first week had seen me stowing away below the lower decks of a fishing vessel more scrap iron than boat, plans of mutiny and a triumphant return to the Kingdoms fueling my imagination. In the end, my ticket to liberation didn't even make it out of the harbor, the boatswain Shean himself plucking me from amidst the assorted cargo with a simpering laugh, a casual rebuke, and a few days work of swabbing the _Prism_ from keel to stern for good measure.

Pino had told me I'd gotten off rather easy in his opinion. Right before I'd shoved the doctor over the edge of a rickety walkway, and head first into the bay.

The next attempt had seen me darting along the vast and utterly convoluted waterways between ramshackle layered structures and free floating ships astride a stolen _Netan,_ laden down with as many spare Dust cores and foodstuffs as I could. Raised shouts and cheers chased me every step of the way, my only pursuers.

I had spent days memorizing the complex routes, and slowly but surely honing my riding skills with more motivation than ever, serving to see me within sight of true sunlight, and not just the weak amalgamation cast by lichen and strung lamps that the Mooring dwellers found so natural in their caverns.

The feel of real warmth prickling my skin was so tantalizing... and then the next moment, I was clinging for dear life as the guiding mast to my skimmer was sheared clean through with expert skill.

Something tinged blue and wickedly fast had done the deed, though I could hardly worry about exactly what at the time. The board underneath me shattered as I tried to hold on, and gripped just a bit too tightly, my lips screaming a silent curse before crash landing hard into the chilling salty depths of the canal.

It was Blizz, the Strider who'd fished me out gagging and spluttering, waggling a lazy finger as he lounged back on his own Netan board. Another week doing the exact same chores, with the added duty of repairing my Netan, and working off the supplies I'd 'selfishly' wasted.

Pino had helped with that little addition, donating what little he earned to ease the burden, though I couldn't for the life of me see why. At least this time he'd known enough to remain silent and let me brood in peace, settling for playing a few rounds of Fool's Gambit and a bit of sign language practice to keep me company.

 _'If only that had kept up...'_ As things were, he still stood with me, only now...

"C'mon! You...You don't even have a solid plan, do you!?" My brow ticked irritably, the ship's doctor not yet done, it seemed, even if he was wheezing the ragged words from the ventilation holes in his mask. "This is silly, and you know it! Let's just turn back!"

It had been like this for the past few hours now, without pause. Incessant steps, incessant dark corridors lit only by stuttering lanterns, complete with incessant whining, all courtesy of Pino. And worse, I appreciated him for it because he was probably right, the fact of which settling as my destination at long last came into view.

A rust-colored set of wide sliding doors, both marked out with a single tylized crimson ' ** _X_** ' across its face from end to end.

As clear a warning, so even a near-illiterate like me could understand.

 _' **Danger... Do Not Enter...'**_

The thought provoked gritted teeth, my fist aching to lash out against something; _anything._ It got so bad I actually hoped Pino would take the hint, and either be quiet or run off. He'd always been fascinated with seeing _Iron Blossom_ in action as much as it unnerved him at the same time, but perhaps not _that_ close up.

It took a moment to steady my nerves even so, deep breaths drawing the tension to the fore, deep exhalations pushing them free. I was close, so close...

Harper himself had been to blame for this little idea. All his talk of moving between the various settlements of the Frontier during his days as Mooring's representative. Moving inland, which would presume that there had to be various ways to leave the city without expressly having to depend on aerial transports, or at least not exclusively.

And lo and behold there were many.

So many, in fact, I'd almost been put off by how easy it had been to find some of the more rarely-utilized smuggler's tunnel leading to the surface unguarded, which was utterly perfect. And so with a few more scrounged supplies hanging in a bag off my waist, here I was. Ready...

 _'This time for sure. No one's stopping me!...'_

I felt a hand try to grasp my shoulder and do just that, the Horo-Sha's last ditch attempt, though I could already feel the resignation hidden in the motion, feeling the creeping sense of it through my Semblance like a chill wind. My hand swiftly darted upwards to brush it gently aside, fingers flashing as they did so.

 _"Go if you want to. No need to follow, Pino."_

"Reika, this is crazy! You've heard the stories about the lands beyond, haven't you?"

About the Frontier, supposedly one of the most dangerous environments imaginable on the face of Remnant, and home to ancient Grimm among other dangerous flora and fauna? A savage land that had birthed men like Joel Ambrose and causes like the Red Hand? Yes, I had heard the stories, many of them conveyed jokingly in the dives of Mooring. None of them were overly pleasant or remotely hopeful of my chances...

 _"I am a Huntress. Not a pirate, and **not** a prisoner."_ The signs were kept curt and to the point, impossible to misinterpret. " _I will be just fine. Survived worse..."_

I'd survived the Grimm as a child, survived the Red Hand in the Badlands... How could this be any more dangerous?

"Not without mine or Lux's help you wouldn't have, you'll recall!"

I paused mid-step as Pino's expressionless crimson visage forced its way ahead of me, fists bunched at his sides, and his Aura fluctuating below the surface like a rough tide. Easy to see why, of course. This was the first time he'd mentioned the Old Horo-Sha's name in days. Since we'd arrived in Mooring in fact.

The man who sold him to save his people. All over some mistake in judgement... No, not even that. For doing what he felt was right.

My gaze drifted to the shifting weapon dangling at the ship doctor's belt...

" _..._ Which is why I'm coming with you. If you really are set on this, that is _._ "

"...!?"

Now it was my turn to do a double take and gape like a fish out of water, my own signed objections coming to naught as he turned on his heel and marched ahead towards the ominous set of double doors. Appearing far braver than we both knew him to be, his mask no doubt concealed much, but he kept his back straight and resolute.

For the first time, I noticed the bags and satchels he carried were full to bursting, laden with provisions and supplies. Far more than I myself carried, at any rate. As a doctor, he'd had cause to walk about far and wide, Harper loaning him out like spare Lien to those that needed aid. In truth, Pino had seen far more of Mooring than I had despite my escape efforts, and had more than enough clout to garner resources.

...Perhaps he wasn't as defeated as I thought he was. Perhaps he was just waiting for the right moment to escape.

"For the record, I still think this is a bad idea _,_ " he commented dryly, shifting on the balls of his feet as I joined him at the top of the stairway. "Just believe it should be said, though I'm wrong, aren't I? You must have **some** kind of idea of what to do, yes? We aren't just forging ahead blindly?"

He actually sounded kind of hopeful. A shame all I could do was shrug and stare sheepishly ahead. My silence was answer enough, as per usual. Little more than a slight shrug, and the briefest of apologetic smiles.

"Huh... Well, then. Oh dear..."

* * *

To the credit of the settlement's architects, the bulwark leading to the world beyond had actually proven rather durable despite appearances.

Thick slabs of wrought iron several inches thick were welded tight and rusted into place along the stone wall by decades of carefully-guided neglect. Sturdy, and no doubt meant to hold against the threat of Grimm wandering close.

Before _Iron Blossom's_ power at full Auratic charge, the door lasted maybe three direct hits before cracking in a way that allowed myself and the reluctant doctor to squeeze through. A good thing, too, given the way the bones in my arm ached as though ready to shatter like glass, and the gauntlet steamed with dim pulsing light I was quite relieved there hadn't been need for a fourth.

The force-nullifying effect the weapon could exert upon impact, created and amplified by the matrix of dust shards set into the knuckles, was impressive enough on its own. When added to the strength of a blow from one with an Aura like mine, well... Let's just say I wasn't used to multiple hits all at once. Not on the same target at least.

"You should... Ah... Let me take a look at the bone _,_ " Pino offered, tearing his robes free of a jagged spar of metal, shaking his head at the ripped fur lined fabric. "If it is truly bothering you, then it only makes sense to... to...?"

He trailed off, gulping audibly behind his mask as he came to stand beside me at the mouth of a moss-strewn bunker crafted to seem like any other cave front, shielding his concealed gaze from the glare of the sun.

Harsh light bore down through the thicket of thick tropical flora hanging overhead in a blanket of colors that appeared to shift the longer one stared into a riot of conflicting shades, casting the whole of the forest floor in a multi-hued morass.

Trees larger than the tiered structures of Vale stretched on all sides, many curved or angled in a way that hinted at paths hidden beyond along interconnected root systems sized like roads, arching out for what could have been several kilometers distant or barely a few yards. That still seemed far more inviting than simply walking along the gnarled floor surrounded by rainbow mists that concealed the paths ahead, concealing marshes, bogs, and who knew what else.

" _Last chance."_ I signed to my companion broadly with a weary shake of my head, stepping forward into the copse gingerly as though still expecting some form of trap or danger to suddenly show itself.

That I could hear the crunch of vegetation beneath his boots behind me alongside unsteady breaths, the hallmark of frayed if resigned nerves, told me his answer. He was staying, which as reassuring.

As it was, deep in the roiling pit I called a stomach, it only made me all the more cognizant of the possibility of an attack in this thick wilderness. Every tree trunk, overhanging branch, or thorny bramble could conceal any matter of being.

Fortunately - or unfortunately depending - none was forthcoming, and the only movement was the gentle sway of hanging vines rustling in the coastal breeze. The sound of the vast ocean crashing against the cliff face that could only stand a few leagues distant, yet sounded so very far away, muffled by the trees.

What's more, I found my _Sense_ distressingly dampened by the sheer overload of contacts beyond anything I had ever felt, even back in the Emerald Forest at Beacon. Life and Aura surrounded me in a swamping sea that blotted out all clarity, like white noise playing in the background of a broadcast signal.

There was power here. _Old_ power, and it smothered my own...

In short, a Grimm could have been stalking just behind me, and I might never have been the wiser. Even Pino's potent glow was rendered muted and indistinct in the gloom, his position drastically uncertain forcing my head on a swivel just to make sure he hadn't vanished.

 _'Is this how people normally feel...?'_

My Semblance had developed fairly early in my life. Earlier than most at any rate or so I assumed. Not a day sprang to mind where I couldn't simply draw upon my power, and know the intricate details of my surroundings in moments.

It was a crutch I'd grown far too reliant upon, I was slowly beginning to realize. Lessons I'd always dismissed as useless suddenly seeming anything but.

To have that innate talent disrupted, even in this small way, was a far more devastating blow to my earlier confidence than I might have suspected. Suddenly, the shadows appeared longer, the light seemed thinner, and every sound from crunch of brambles along the bark underfoot to the rustle of leaves above was enough to leave me... twitchy.

Pino noticed - of course he did - and stayed close despite the drawn out silence that had sprung up as we picked a direction, and started walking with no real destination in particular.

Old Bill would have been mortified. So would Ben and Ma, probably. And to be fair, it took only a few hours to entirely regret the hasty choice in action.

" _..._ Alright, I'm almost certain we've passed this tree before _,_ " Pino spoke up, running a gloved hand along the length of a hanging vine, one of many clinging to a gnarled tree that would've given the Beacon dorms a run for its money in sheer size. "See, here's the mark I left bef _... **Agh!?**_ "

At first, I thought he might have slipped on another hidden fault in the root system. But then I saw him tug his arm back to examine the sticky, sap-like excretion that clung to the thick fabric. Fabric that, to his and my silent horror, began to smoke and steam in the open air, the doctor swiftly discarding the glove, and running a bottle of clear water across his palm for good measure.

At that moment, I became painfully aware of how many other similar vines surrounded us now, some obviously barbed with needle-thin spines we'd studiously avoided, only to now find ourselves dealing with an entirely different danger.

The forest... It was playing tricks on us... And that wasn't all.

 _"W-_ well, then. That's... certainly something. A fascinating adaptation."

I couldn't help but take note of the curiosity laden beneath the nervous concern in his tone, or how he surreptitiously drew his knife and began carefully snipping at the vine's ends, pausing when he noticed me shooting him an angry look.

The same kind I used to give him whenever he'd ask about my training him to act against the Grimm, or the newer requests to actually learn to combat them.

That fop Harper's influence, no doubt...

"..."

"Please don't look at me like that."

" _I am not_." I signed back quickly, too quickly it turned out.

"Yes, you are. Can you please not do so?"

He shook his head, returning a half-filled clay jar filled with plant trimmings and sap samples back into the folds of his robes before gesturing towards the tree trunk with his jangling dagger, the sound of the charms clattering not all too dissimilar to those bells I still wore out of habit in my hair, the similarity doing nothing to inure myself to his little trophy.

From my vantage point along the roots below, I could just make out the carved sigil he'd made in the bark near the base of the tree. The same I'd seen him leaving every so often along the steps of our impromptu escape.

"I've never encountered anything like this, at least nothing so virulent to this extent. And this isn't the only such defense I've noticed. If we're lost, I might as well try to learn something helpful along the way."

 _"We're not lost."_ It was petulant, I knew it, and so did he. Thing is, I'd also spent most of my life in a place well known for its many dangers, and come out alright and decently well-adjusted. I had my pride... _"We go forward."_

"Oh? Do you remember turning at any point along the way? Because I don't _._ " Pino shook his masked head, scratching at his sweat drenched hair with those thin fingers of his, and staring up at the canopy hanging above us. "It's not weakness to admit one is lost, but it is foolish to blunder on when one realizes they are. Foolish and dangerous."

 _"One of Lux's lessons?"_ I signed back, immediately regretting the barb when I saw the boy's shoulders droop.

On instinct, I reached out with my _Sense,_ trying to get a read of how I'd hurt him, and how best to respond, only to find I couldn't quite pin him down despite looking at him headlong. His Aura signature almost seemed to rebound through the web of trees, lost amidst the muck and covered by overgrowth.

" _..._ Simple common sense _,_ " he said, voice stony as the knife slid home into its sheath silently with a tad bit of flourish that had Shean's teachings all over it.

From below, looking at him now, it was tough to see the nervous young man I'd woken up to in that cart so long ago. Tough, but not impossible. He was growing, and it was as much my fault as it was circumstance's.

"Something is wrong. I've felt ever since we left the cave. This place feels.. _._ " he trailed off blankly, finally taking a step away from the vine, much to my silent relief, the plant life almost seeming to twitch in his direction as he went, almost as if drawn to him. "It just... **feels.** How to explain it?... The paths, the angles are all disjointed. It's difficult to get my bearings."

"..." I nodded, knowing exactly what he meant now that he'd gone and mentioned it. Something did just feel... off, though exactly what I couldn't say.

The Frontier was dangerous, that much we both realized from the start. Plants like this were commonplace, where one wrong step could see one harmed or worse. We'd been prepared for that. By the Badlands in my case, by a lifetime on the move in Pino's. We'd see the harshest the Remnant could offer, and had made good time as a result. Better than most I'd wager.

But here... Here, it was almost as though something sentient lay just beneath the surface. Some silent pressure keeping us from venturing further, at least in this particular direction. As though the whole of the forest and its root system paths had grown in such a way to keep luring us back. To subtly bar our path from the borders of what lay ahead.

 _'But... for what purpose?'_ I pondered with a finger twitch, examining the mental route we had taken, and realizing our errors, slowly rediscovering the path that lay before the two of us. A particularly shadowed trail that had somehow passed unnoticed before, the colorful flora and natural majesty drawing our focus aside, kept us distracted from the obvious. _'Are we being kept at bay, or kept away?'_

Now that I saw it, I wondered how we could have possibly missed this new road, the air radiating from it chilling, even amidst the tropical climate, and setting a shiver down my spine. I was startled to find I could feel it, a gnawing ache lingering in my chest the longer I looked. The sensation was almost painful, yet so very enticing and familiar all at once, drawing me in closer and closer until I could almost taste... almost feel... The hand encased in _Iron Blossom_ reached out...

" ** _Reika!?_** "

I started back to myself with a soundless gasp at Pino's cry and the jingling of the bells in my ear, finding myself only a few paces from the offshoot footpath with my arm outstretched and grasping.

A moment or two more, and I would have crossed the threshold entirely, disappearing into the lonely dark and whatever lay beyond without even being aware of it.

Alarming, yes, and so was the presence of a hand across my shoulder that certainly didn't belong to my friend. A dainty appendage garbed in rings and rich silks, but one that also held me as firmly as though a mountain had caught hold and rooted itself to the ground.

"That was a close one, lass. Far too close," said Harper Majorelle, his painted face bearing its usual easy grin, though with an extra air of relief I'd never heard before.

Relief, or terror... I wasn't really sure which I'd find worse.

 _'...How did he...!? When...!?'_

I looked about frantically, but could find little in the way of tracks or any other indication to mark the Captain's arrival, or where he might have come from aside from a few deep furrows in the ground directly at his armored boots.

Furrows that grew deeper the closer they came, meaning... meaning he'd almost been dragged along with me. I had almost...

Feeling sick, my stomach did backflips while my knees threatened to buckle, Majorelle's grasp the only thing keeping me upright after a fashion. Pino did his best to slide down the gully towards us both. He didn't tarry either, his lanky frame stumbling and practically rolling down the last incline before skidding to a stop at my side, his breathing frantic while he looked me up and down.

All the while markedly avoiding eye contact with the opening directly behind him, I noted dimly. It was hard to breathe, panic seizing my heart as though caught in one of my... _NO!_

I clamped down on the emotion, ignoring the sudden burning pain in my back, and focused instead on listening to the bells steady chime. I recalled where I was, that I was... Well, not safe, it seemed... But the Blood Hound - the _Monster_ \- wasn't there... No burning or cutting...

" _ **Reika!?** Reika, are you...!?_"

"She's fine, lad. Or she will be, provided a warm meal. Maybe a stiff drink and a bit of a breather on the side." Harper removed his arm with a huff, allowing me to tumble unceremoniously into my comrade's shaking arms. "Really, of all the ways you two could've stumbled... I'm half tempted to throw you both off my ship and have done what with your luck. Or lack of it." He shrugged, blue eyes staring into the gloom beyond with wary disquiet, a whisper so low on his lips that only I and my Aura keen senses heard. "Though I suppose I _did_ make it here in time. Can't be all bad."

" _C-_ Captain _..._ " Pino stammered weakly, crouching low to guide me to the ground nice and easy, removing an outer layer to his robes and draping it about my shoulder. The warmth was appreciated, goose-flesh prickling my shivering form in a cold sweat. "What... What is this place?"

I noticed he didn't question how the Mooring Prince had tracked us down so quickly in the first place, nor did he seem overly surprised. That nagged at me, the suspicious side schooled into me by folks such as Ma and Ben forced to wonder if the medic hadn't somehow tipped off the Captain before we'd left the city. Those sigils cut into the wood...

All done in some bid to protect me no doubt... I'd be angry with him later - furious even - but he was warm now. Familiar... That's what mattered.

"Somewhere children like you certainly shouldn't be."

With that vague reply, he drew upon his Aura, brow furrowing as for the briefest instant the air seemed to thicken about him. Then, without warning, he brought his leg up high - almost to a near vertical - before bringing it down in an ax-like motion that cleaved into the loamy dirt and grasping vines of the forest floor below.

It wasn't overly forceful, or didn't seem to be, but was somehow enough to split the ground before him in twain. Pino and I recoiled back as the destructive energy collapsed the surrounding root structures before and around us, creating a landslide that funneled into the breach that all access beyond with a natural if impromptu wall.

A shoddy thing. At my best, I could have dug or blasted through it in a matter of minutes, but it did the trick. Whatever force was assailing me lost hold with the path's closing. My mind cleared, and the pressure bearing down on my lungs was suddenly wonderfully absent.

"The Frontier isn't such a massive place, if one thinks about it," Harper said cheerily, admiring his handiwork before settling back on his haunches with a long sigh. "Bastion-borne rarely leave that cage they call a city, and for all their roaming, even the Safehold Clans can't claim to know every little nook and cranny. Yet despite that, there are a few things we all acknowledge. Even those too stupid to admit openly." He held up a finger, waggling it for emphasis. "We all, for one sordid reason or another, choose to live in a savage, unforgiving place filled to bursting with monsters, magic, and dangers uncountable. A place that, frankly, no soul - Human or Faunus - has any business being, but we're all too stubborn to realize it. And..." He pointed the finger at the wall, the structure already beginning to show signs of crumbling further even in so brief a time since its rising, the forest taking it back, or the things lurking beneath it... "...we all agree to a man that this place is the most dangerous of the lot, hands down."

" _The worst...?_ "

"It... This place... It swallows people. From the unwary traveler to the most prepared Huntsman. Quite literally at times. You ever hear of a Ground Maw?" He laughed as we shook our heads, more out of relief than anything else, motioning to the forest floor below. "Nasty bastards. Travel through the loamy ground. Reason most out here use the tree's to get around. Fortunate you traveled the root paths. Could have been messy otherwise."

I shivered, suddenly aware of the vast holes that had been interspersed throughout the root systems every so often. Appearing natural to the unknowing, until one peered closer.

"But this, I think I'd rather challenge the digger."

"But that doesn't make any sense." Pino made to edge away from the crumbling edifice, or maybe I was the one pushing him, neither of us really knew. "Grimm, I understand, but you make it sound like this region itself is alive."

"Isn't it? You must feel something don't you? Even untrained."

He waved a broad gesture, not seeming like he'd moved with us in retreat, but he had. Harper had pride, too, and he didn't like to admit that in the face of whatever danger lay beyond he was just as ready to flee as we were. The Captain was also looking at me now, sharing a knowing look.

"She does. Don't you? Even without that ability of yours."

 _"What is it?"_ I signed, knowing without really caring that he would catch my meaning. _"What would have happened if I walked in? If you hadn't stopped me."_ I expected a lot, and I liked to think I was ready for any answer.

I hadn't expected the shrug... And for a long instant, I felt I could empathize with Maxine Argus' hatred of such a gesture.

But it was all the Captain had, before he guided the pair of us, myself included, back to Mooring without a fight. I felt I owed him that much for saving my life, even if the next words ensured I wasn't going to sleep easy for more days than I'd like.

A part of me suspected I knew what lay just beyond the shadowed canopy, and knowing how close it was...how close they were, was hardly any real source of comfort. A familiar terror of months before...ignored but not forgotton.

"According to even our records, best we can tell no soul has managed to stride from that forest... from the _Kyr'am_ , in generations. At least not with their minds intact, that is." He'd told us in no uncertain terms, and in the days that followed, I'd look into the matter, if only to know how close to the precipice I'd unwittingly almost fallen into. "Well, I suppose that's a lie, actually. There was one that managed it, though if you ask me, the jury's still out on his sanity."

 _"Why? What happened to him?"_

"Well, the man did the craziest thing I could think of doing, Miss Murasaki." And by the look on his face in that moment as his gaze tailed off into the distant horizon, I could believe him. I'd also taken note of the direction, filing it away for future reference. "He went and declared himself _Cahalrym_. That is, after declaring war on the rest of Remnant."

* * *

 _ **-Ciane Skye-**_

Darkness fell quickly, sunlight fading to be replaced by humming industrial Dust strobes that sprang to flickering life on predetermined cue, throwing the street into sharp penetrating relief that stripped the shadows bare. By the gods, I hated such things with a passion, and not just because they made my profession that much harder.

Far removed from the softer, warmer illumination cast by the swaying paper lanterns more often employed in the livelier districts. So artificial, so lifeless, with nothing even remotely resembling beauty or artistry about them.

Still, they were easy enough to avoid if one knew the layout of the district as I did. Those shadowy corners and overhangs that the light - even this hateful, fluorescent glow - couldn't reach either through sheer good fortune, or the sinister designs on the behalf of the Kage's influence.

After all, it was _smart_ for an organization to devote resources to ensuring it had good capable people, but it was _clever_ to ensure those people had proper avenues to work with from the start.

 _'Why work harder when you can work smarter, after all?'_

Of course, that didn't mean one could just sit on one's laurels. There was still a fair bit of dedicated work involved. Such as the effort it took to scale the side of a building without safeties or supports in the middle of the night. A process of easing my climbing talons into the soft malleable wood with near-silent proficiency, working my way along slowly but surely, despite the lactic burn in my arms and knees.

Pain came with effort, and while it might hurt to take things slow, it certainly would if I rushed and made a mistake. The ground or the people inside would make sure of that.

So I bided my time meticulously, pausing and working myself flat to the weather-beaten surface whenever I thought I heard the stirrings of something or someone moving about within near my position, or whenever that damned goon peeked his head out the door scanning the area like a dog marking his territory... or a wolf.

And lo and behold, patience paid off, seeing me to the sliding glass panels that lined the upper floors of the building, granting me my first real look inside.

Oh, and what a look it was...

 _' **Woah...** '_

I drew in a sharp intake of breath reflexively at the sight of so many boxes and shipping crates piled into one place.

Not at the sheer amounts themselves, though. That was nothing special for any shill company ballsy enough to earn the Kage's attention. No, more the host of symbols embossed along the sides of most, the stylized snowflake of the Schnee Dust Company and the stylized emblem of the now-defunct Merlot Industries chief among them.

Dust, weapons, even vehicles and heavier equipment going by the size of some of those containers. Of which there were several.

My friend had been right. Whoever these guys were, they certainly weren't messing about. There had to be enough raw material in this arsenal to take on a whole Kingdom in there, or at least cause one hell of a fuss.

And they'd somehow managed to sneak it underneath the Kage's radar without a single blip. That alone was worrying in the extreme.

Regardless, I had a job to complete, and in my mind, this new information just meant a hefty bonus and hazard pay. Not that the Kage ever really bothered with hazard pay.

Still a girl could drea...!

Movement from the corner of my eye caught hold of my attention. A trio of figures moving about along the crates randomly, obviously arguing over something. Something big.

The Mark who'd led me here was easily the most flustered of them, hands waving from underneath his cloak at all the fancy wears, the picture of barely-contained panic writ across his thin face. The goon who'd let him in was recognizable enough even from this distance, looming over the small man with an air of barely-contained threat, meaty arms crossed.

And the last... a starkly pale young woman maybe a year or so younger than I was. No... _younger,_ even. More a girl, really. Buried rather than dressed in a thick-padded jacket over a short-checkered skirt, black torn tights, and cropped long-sleeve of violet and purple shaded stripes.

All in all, almost doll-like in build and appearance. Long hair falling down her back, ink black but for a single neat streak in her bangs the same dyed color as the rest of her outfit.

 _'Alright, what's this, then?'_

It was some kid right out of a schoolyard, and one that, by the looks of things, was leading the conversation. The giant deferring to her through subtle stance and expression, easy enough to tell. I'd been doing the same the better half of my life.

Not exactly what I'd been expecting, but something to note in my report later as I maneuvered away from the floor view, and towards the offices placed nearest the back with a few deft leaps across the sill, the space devoid of life but far from empty. More boxes were piled about around a desk littered with figures, maps, and such.

 _'Perfect...'_

A bit of finagling here and a single swift flick of my talon there saw the lock on the window severed into finely cut pieces, snatched out of the air before they could clatter to the wooden floor. My padded feet followed with hardly a rustle of fabric soon after, once I'd been suitably comfortable even that small noise I had made wasn't going to raise alarm, of course.

One could never be too careful, and this job had already gotten weirder in the brief minutes since I'd begun my work.

Luckily, the objects of my search weren't too difficult to pin down, despite the clutter.

The charts out in the open were an obvious grab, depictions of various seemingly random points and highlighted routes marked out on the larger charts swiftly memorized and their images captured by my minuscule Scroll in a series of swift silent flashes. The more manageable parchments were swiftly rolled up and deposited into one of the many pouches at my waist for later perusal.

Then came the fun part: the safe thoughtfully set into the wall, and hidden behind a large map of Anima, various cities and settlements marked out with various flowing cuneiform I couldn't quite understand. Savage and simplistic, yet not entirely devoid of beauty.

Some sort of code, but definitely letting off a distinct militaristic vibe that only added to my concern about this whole endeavor. The Kage weren't just dealing with idiot smugglers or enterprising bandits. Not this time.

 _'One thing at a time, Skye. **Focus!** '_

I shook my head out, tucking a few braids of spun sapphire back beneath my hood, cursing the lapse as I tore down the map to get at the dial lock beneath. A simple enough design, thankfully without the more advanced Atlas tech. One I could possibly crack properly if I had the tools and time to make the attempt.

Seeing as I hadn't much of either, I chose the expedient route instead.

Drawing in a deep breath and digging my feet into the floor, I reached out and placed my palm against the face of the safe near the locking mechanism. Once contact was made, I gritted my teeth and applied my Aura, drawing upon that humming sense of warmth, letting it flow out down my limbs and into the safe.

The effect was slow to build, a low thrumming murmur of vibrating metal on the edge of hearing, slowly building in keening pitch as the seconds ticked by, and sweat dripped down my brow.

It wasn't comfortable. This particular Semblance never was, but once _Shatterpoint_ built...

With a sharp *clang* of shifting tumblers, the safe clicked open, a relieved chuckle passing through my lips as I swung it wide and examined the contents. A fine box of crimson-shaded wood the size of my palm marked with a cloaked dagger sigil marked in ash black, a bound bundle of documents, and a rather sizable stack of Lien cards.

The latter pair of items disappeared into the pouch the moment my gaze landed on them, the documents given they were important enough to hide away, the Lien for obvious personal reasons.

 _'A girl had her needs after all...'_ And I knew people who could put those funds to better use.

The box would follow suit soon after, once I'd confirmed the contents, of course. Seemingly empty, a latch hidden upon the side snapping back to reveal a fine pale pearl with an inset of ebony dark inky liquid.

Relatively worthless to all, except those who knew its symbolism.

A sign from the Kage, permission to act within their territory, bequeathed to partners and incoming traders as a mark of good faith.

Anyone, any organization, sporting one of these baubles would be able to flash a hefty bit of pull when it came to various powers in the city of Wind Path. Law enforcement and even a fair few Huntsmen would know to look the other way when one of these popped up, and anyone who happened to make a fuss without one would suffer dire penalties as a result. '

To have it stolen... That was the first sign to any potential rival that you and yours... for lack of a better term, had ' _fucked up.'_

Just like I had the instant I registered the door to the office bursting off its sliding squealing hinges.

Light poured into the previously dark space, nagging at my eyes while a snide, cocky voice issued from behind me. "Oh-ho, I thought I'd heard something rustling around up in here. Seems we've got a rat on the premises."

Turning slowly, I was greeted to the unwelcome sight of another youth, this one male with slicked back cerulean curls not so dissimilar to my own, and distinctly broad shouldered, bearing arms that looked like they could bend steel with ease. Vein-fueled muscle rippled under a tight-fitting belted black jacket that screamed function as much as it did sheer class, grey trousers tucked into steel-shod boots that marched into the space after evidently having kicked the door in, going by the deep imprint on the cracked wooden panels.

"Brielle's gone and screwed the Beowolf yet again. But hey, that's what you get for depending on the savages to play lookout... Did warn her."

His Aura was foul, and frankly his face wasn't much better, fit with a youthful vitality as it was. He might have been handsome. Might have been in the right light.

All of that potential nevertheless was completely ruined by the shit-eating grin of one who'd just made a funny joke, and expected his audience to laugh.

"Look, it's been a while since I'v gotten to get some decent sleep on a decent bed, so I'll give you a chance, since I'm feeling so generous." He cracked his knuckles noisily, smirking as I put my back firmly against the wall, shrinking down in the folds of my cloak to hide my features. "Surrender quietly, don't make such a fuss, and who knows? I might just do you a favor and not... Hmm, what are you...!?"

Talkers. By the gods, how I loved talkers. Always more focused on hearing themselves... Well, you get the idea.

They practically distracted themselves, leaving me with just enough wiggle room to slip a hand inside another one of the pouches lining my waist, once more drawing on the thrumming well of energy deep inside.

But blabbermouth or not, he was fast. Beyond fast even, leaping into motion with a grace and speed beyond anything I might have been expecting from a bulk his size, easily dodging the handful of tiny cylindrical metal studs I'd meant to toss in his face like it was child's play. He'd even stopped mid way to follow them as they passed out from his peripherals.

Didn't matter much in the end. All that meant was that the Dust crackers - tiny little wonders they were, chock full of burn and lightning powder - went off closer to his ears rather than his eyes. The mixed contents reacted with explosive force throughout their rattling casings, vibrated to breaking point by my acquired Semblance.

Hardly enough to singe the eyebrows, but the sound...

" _Gyaaaah!_ "

Weird. I'd thought it might be a shock, but I certainly hadn't expected it to send my problem reeling backwards, pawing at his ear and screaming bloody murder.

 _'A Faunus, maybe? Might account for the sensitive ears.'_

Either way, it worked much better than I'd hoped, and I certainly wasn't one to throw away a good distraction when one presented. Not with the sound of shouting and renewed footsteps pounding up the stairs from the warehouse floor below.

So I ran, sprinting for all I was worth towards the windows, cloak up to shield me from the worst as I crashed through the thick frame of wood and glass. That terrifying moment of vertigo took hold until gravity reasserted itself.

 _'Always have a landing strategy...'_ I might have dropped out of combat school the moment I'd realized I knew enough to get by, but that lesson at least had always struck a chord. ' _Not so bad. Today was the night they **ALMOST** caught Ciane Sk...!?'_

Then I hit the ground. That was always the worst part, landing in a rough roll across the muddy ground, knocking the air from my lungs.

It hurt. Oh yeah, it did at that, but that was what Aura was for, after all.

Cyan energy tinged through with golden spots leapt to the fore as the pain in my shoulder and chest receded, mercifully quickly at that. I got up and waved to the window, meaning it as one last jab at my hustled victims; a bit of levity.

Suffice it to say, the arrow that whizzed past my cheek, tearing the hood from my cloak and almost taking my ear off, ruined that little moment for me.

"Uh-oh."

" _Get her! Get the bitch!_ " Big Mouth cried out from his perch at the window, already puling back the string of a wicked-looking composite bow, another arrow poised for my heart.

The goon I'd noticed before all but crashed bodily through the doorway at ground level, flanked on either side by a pair just like him. All some of the largest men I'd ever seen by full heads, each now draped in thick furs and dulled armor, clutching spears that glinted silver in the shattered moonlight.

Wicked things, terrifying in their artistry, the fiscal part of my mind measuring the value of each in the extreme. Well made, well cared for, and easily capable of ending my streak for good.

Now was definitely a time to run, I think, and run I did. I could hear the sound of my pursuers hot on my heels, the remnants of my cloak fluttering around me.

It was that which likely saved my life, the folds disguising how small my body was underneath, as the arrow meant for my back merely tore past my side with a momentary flash of hot agony as it dug a small line across my hip. A bite, really, but far better that than the alternative.

I pushed through, reaching the alleyway I'd marked as my escape route. A ramshackle overhang littered with shoddy shingles and other junk.

 _Shatterpoint_ saw the meager supports shattered as I passed, the effort hardly even breaking my stride as the entrance to the alleyway was suddenly filled with the sounds of growling snarls, splintering wood, and curses in a guttural language I'd never heard before alongside the startled shouts of the gutter rats inhabiting the structure.

For usual toughs, that might've been enough to dissuade from the chase. These fellows merely barreled on through or leapt the obstacle without pause, showing a fair bit more grace than their physiques might have suggested as they adeptly rebounded off the sides of the buildings on either side with silent ease.

And so the chase was on, through darkened alleys and muddy lots. Even entering a crowd failed to dissuade them, barely seen shadows skirting rooftops along any route I chose, herding and hemming my path.

They were going to catch me, out of breath and staggering in the dark with aching limbs as I was from overusing the Semblance in such quick succession.

It didn't seem to matter which winding route I skidded under or ducked into. They kept on my trail regardless with the air of dogs hunting a rabbit. Always just a step or two behind, and growing closer with every moment, and silent but for the footfalls of their heavy tread. Even that was misleading, a momentary respite while I waited for them to pass almost spelling my end as a pair had fallen from above, betrayed by a reflection in a puddle and my own instinct for evasion.

"Who... Whoozat!?" A shift of movement in the shadows before me in an alley ahead, revealing a lanky figure dressed in a thick leather coat layered in patches stumbled into view from a pile of discarded rubbish in response to the commotion. Dumbly rubbing at bleary eyes of pale bloodshot sun drops, hair the color of rich honey collected in loose bunches beneath a stocking cap. "Ah, stop all that racket! Can't a guy sleep in...!?"

He waved a hand at me drunkenly, supposed to be angry as we'd agreed so as to avoid drawing attention, though as always, he seemed unable to keep that broad white smile from his ruddy features.

It was almost enough to make me return the gesture. But of course, I had murderous pursuers on my tail, one of whom just now rounding the corner behind me and signaled the others silently with a broad hand gesture. The doorman - their leader - and the biggest and nastiest of the lot.

I didn't have time for pleasantries, slamming into the 'drunk' at a run, faking what to anyone else might have been a struggle, though my partner seemingly turned it into a fumbling roundabout dance for the hell of it.

Again, I focused, the hum of energy I'd gleaned earlier fading to embers, as though burned from me, power drawn forth from the man I held who was barely able to even stay on his feet by the time I'd finished with him. As always grinning stupidly when I half dance half tossed him bodily back into the trash heap he'd stepped from.

I didn't have time to be gentle with the transfer, and he knew it.

Of course, it hurt to see his head lolling on his like that. Drained of just about all he had... _Copycat_ was always a temperamental thing at the best of times.

"S-sorry!"

The strained apology bled from chattering teeth in a low whine, squeezed from me as my Aura once more flared to life, and I drew from within, gasping at the sudden rush. Cyan energy, now thoroughly mixed with crackling pale white energy that blazed like a Dust flare, thrumming across my skin with palpable vigor. My wound healed, my aches ceased...

And then a sudden sense of weightlessness coupled with immense overwhelming pressure that bore down across every bone in my body like some vice, sending me staggering more than walking during those first few steps. Steps that had once been so feather light as to barely leave a trace, now digging deep furrows into the ground.

Everything was shaking, my head pounding with the sudden onslaught of sensory information spurred on by this last ditch ability, once again sending a brief flicker of pity as it always did for the strangely-dressed young man now dozing fitfully amidst the rubbish.

It felt wonderful. It felt horrible. It felt... It just _felt_!

Idly, I realized that first pursuer - the original goon I'd seen by the door - had leapt for me. The spear he held in hand moved towards me with a surety of purpose that clearly registered his lack of willingness to bring me back to his employer alive. Or maybe on some level he realized what had just happened, and sought to stop me before I escaped?

He meant to end this and skewer me, but moving at the speed I now perceived him as, he had no chance at all.

Smiling a smile despite myself - the exact same expression as the man I'd taken this power from if I'd truly been aware enough to notice such things - I side-stepped the spear, and let him fall past me, even that small motion applied with such force and speed as to send mud and dust splattering far up the side of the building behind me in a tidal spray.

" _Fryd dra...!_?" The beast of a man had time to spit from canine teeth before I pushed him off to the side.

Just a modest shove, really, as though to a friend.

One that sent him hurtling clear through the wooden side of the building across from me, and putting him into what I now realized was a tavern's main room. Voices and shouts of alarm rising from within at the sudden airborne guest smashing bodily through three tables, before landing in a slumped jumble at the bar.

That, I regretted. I hadn't meant to go that hard. 'Course, that was the danger with this particular Sembance, among other things.

But I wasn't here to fight, especially not with Big Mouth bringing up the rear with his goons, caught somewhere between awe at what I'd just done and bitter, almost feral fury.

He'd been good to follow me along with his people. Damned good... but just not good enough. Bully for him.

 _'Now then, **this** was the night they **ALMOST** caught Ciane Skye!'_ I thought triumphantly, blowing him a mocking kiss before jumping free of the alley with all the strength I could direct.

That sole movement, simple as it was, blew Big Mouth and his fellows clean off their feet in an explosion of mud and over pressure.

Their quarry now long gone, suddenly hurtling over the length of the wooden expanse of city lights far beneath, back-lit by the shattered moon, cackling laughter stolen by the wind whistling through slicked back hair pulled into a trio of thin braided blue tresses...

* * *

-END

* * *

 **A/N: And another chapter down, and a nice long one too. Been awhile since we got to catch up with Reika and Pino in the Frontier, plus a look at things brewing in Windpath. People might remember Ciane as Virgil's little friend from way back.  
**

 **Been through a lot over the years, and now she's getting dragged back in. Thumbs up if you caught what her Copycat entails.**

 **Show-wise whoo boy, man that lore building. Lot of revelations there, lot of stuff to play with. Would love to hear thoughts on it or this story. Always helps.**

 **Till next time - Mojo**

* * *

 ** _(Next Chapter: A visit from an old friend)_**


	25. Chapter 25

_**Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_

* * *

NOTHING SERIOUS

* * *

 _ **-Benjamin Carson-**_

"And you're sure it ain't nothin' too noticeable?"

I lounged back in the decorative chair that always seemed more ornament than furniture, adjusting the spoon's reflective surface absently yet again between metallic fingertips. It wasn't much better, I realized with a grimace, narrowing my eyes and leaning in so close to the distorted image that it fogged with a breath, focusing on a point just above my right brow...

More specifically, the quartet of rounded, silver metal studs nestled along the curve of the bone, the skin around each tender and of a lighter tone than the usual tanned ocher. Already, there were fading signs from the implantation surgery that had seen them... 'installed' a week earlier. Neurotransmitters similar to the strip currently lining a certain General's stern countenance, allowing my new 'improvements' to operate with all the seamless ease of flesh and blood, or the closest thing to it, anyway.

And unlike the earlier Aura-driven model, it wasn't even a drain. Thoughtless, despite being anything but.

Little Ambrose had been true to his word. The whole ordeal hadn't had me down for long at all thanks to the expertise of that little AI of his.

Most of the obvious physical signs were, as promised, subtle enough to be hidden. Or at least most were... The incessant headaches were already fading into something vaguely resembling a hangover. In other words, they were perfectly tolerable. The other side effects...

Fidgeting despite the Dust heating units spaced generously to combat the seasonal chill, I tried my best to ignore the all too subtle hum emanating from shoulder and knee that accompanied even that most simple of motions. Parts I couldn't remove, and things I didn't want to think about.

Small sacrifices...

"Just I'm lookin' at 'em from an angle now, and I can't help but...!"

"Benjamin, _shush!_ "

All of a sudden, the spoon was deftly swatted free from my grasp with a swish-flick disarming stroke of the now-fuming Heiress' dinner knife. My impromptu mirror was sent spinning through the air right over the lip of the balcony, disappearing into the darkness of the snowstrewn courtyard below. Real shame. That single utensil probably would have had a family in the Badlands eating for at least a month, judging by all the the filigree and ornamentation.

I'd already lined my pockets with several of the smaller sets, old habits dying hard... So many shinies. So much left lying around for anyone and everyone, it'd be disgraceful not to take advantage.

Such a waste... _'Nah, don't think about home...'_

"Klein went through all the work of preparing dinner. The least you can do is have a taste, and pretend you're paying attention." With all the dignified grace of the swordswoman I knew her to be, Weiss composed herself and returned to her meal with a huff. "And for the last time, you look perfectly acceptable."

"I find they make you appear rather distinguished, Master Carson."

Klein Sieben, Weiss' butler/caretaker/shining ray of delightful life, piped up from over my shoulder as he placed a replacement for the utensil lost before me with a twinkling smile.

A good man, he'd even brought along another one of those cups of steaming hot caffeine with him. Not exactly coffee, even though he'd offered several times to whip one up. The drink was somehow perfectly distilled and adjusted, as though brewed after a bone-chilling night in the Badlands, stewed right out of an old beat up percolator converted from spare parts.

In other words, just like home... even somehow managing to replicate the coppery tang and grainy motor oil texture to nigh-going on magical perfection. My date only curled her nose in distaste at the strong scent, accepting her own far more refined beverage from the beaming butler.

"Not to mention they appear to have performed their work reasonably up to snuff as well," he commented, spinning the tray into position behind his back and puffing out his chest proudly. "Marched all the way up to the third floor landing today, stairs and all, and not one muttered threat or word of complaint." He winked, my interest in the contents of my cup rising with every passing second.

 _'Reminds me of Ma, this one...'_

At least he displayed the same knowing looks and biting humor the doddering old shrew had boasted, always chasing me about back home with a firm scolding and a secreted grin gleaming at the corner of her lips.

By the gods, I hoped she got out alright after Dad... after _Bill_ turned himself in. None of my contacts managed to turn up more than a few passing mentions of the woman who'd mothered me since... well.

"To be fair, I was only ever insultin' the house," I muttered between sips, trying and failing to copy the same practiced grace Weiss possessed in abundance. "So much space for five...erm four people, when you could probably house half of Spire Point in... Uh, no offense."

"Some taken." Weiss merely gave a resigned huff and a shrug of her shoulders, the act rather endearing truth be told, especially in that new dress of hers.

"But yeah, good as new, 'side from a few aches here and there. Might even be able to give the Princess here a proper dance in time for whatever this... What was it s'posed to be again?"

I knew well enough what _'It'_ was, the rumor mill swirling long before Ironwood had first started dragging me along with him for these almost daily visits to the Devil's den. Ostensibly to talk security for this little get-together Jacques Schnee had planned, more likely a decent excuse to try and placate the man in the face of the whole Dust debacl,e and keep a personal eye on his problem child of a Specialist in one stroke.

Including my host was just good manners, and she never backed down from the chance to provide an explanation. Deflection from certain mechanical distractions.

"A charity concert, as well as an accompanying auction," the Heiress spoke up, brow furrowing as she set her drink down. Mood souring, my ploy exposed. "The proceeds of which will go towards the reconstruction efforts in Vale, and... Beacon." Beacon... I knew about Vale, but to try and rebuild the academy itself... My reaction hadn't gone unnoticed unfortunately, or unremarked upon. "It's a good idea, Ben. Sure, the glamour is a bit excessive, but it'll help people in dire need. Don't go dismissing it because it was...!"

" _His_ idea. Or did you volunteer to sing just for kicks?" Even Klein found an excuse to clear plates, scampering off in the face of such a gaze. And he was just caught up in the fallout, the full brunt reserved for yours truly. "Oh simmer down, I ain't that petty." That earned another raised eyebrow, and another shot to the self-confidence. Oh, if only the tabloids could see us now. "Okay, not _that_ petty. I see the point. Ya might've noticed Ironwood ain't exactly twistin' my fancy new arm when it comes to the Carson Charity Fund, or playin' up a smile for a buncha spoiled stuck-ups who ain't got a clue."

Benjamin Carson, the man with the unenviable talent of saying exactly the wrong thing at just the wrong moment... I swear, it's a gift.

"Trade offs and favors. This is how things work here in Atlas, especially when they involve hearts and minds. You're smart enough to know that by now." I bit my lip to stifle the inevitable comeback, fingers drumming a tinny tattoo beat across the tabletop. An old habit, and one I knew infuriated the heiress to no end. "At least I _thought_ you were. Apparently, I was wrong."

And there it was. A glimmer of something buried in those baby blues; the hidden agenda. Weiss wasn't angry about the concert, or my attitude thereof. No, there was a certain topic we'd been skirting for weeks now.

"...Come on, out with it." I downed the caffeine with a sigh and eased forward, not giving her the chance to look away this time. She wouldn't back down; not the Weiss I knew. "Already had a murderous Trapper, my personal doctor, if you can call him that, and the leader of the greatest army Remnant's ever seen on my case. No sense for my 'girlfriend' to be holdin' back now, is there? You're hung up on somethin'."

"...Dolt." A snicker escaped before I could help it, the insult bringing back memories of better times. At least until I noticed she wasn't smiling, quite the opposite actually, not at all a good look. "You stupid, utterly idiotic _dolt!_ "

"I... Uh, Weiss. I...!"

"You could've been _killed!_ " For such a dainty fist, the amount of noise that reverberated from its impact was strangely disconcerting, ringing sharp and clear in the cold. "You understand that, don't you!? Have you gotten that through that thick blonde head of yours!?"

"Aw, c'mon, Princess. I've already gotten the riot act from Ambrose." The nickname wasn't helping. If anything it just deepened the red pallor creeping up her neck. My pulse was quickening. Oh, the things we notice in a pinch. "Plus it ain't like I went outta my way, and asked 'em to try and take a shot! Fang's the one you oughta be fumin' at, not me!"

"Oh? I see absolutely no reason why can't I be angry with both, Carson." She turned her nose up, looking so much like her sister in that instant, I couldn't help but flinch back. "They attacked you, yes, but only because you just so happened to be stumbling around a deserted street alone and defenseless like a drunken fool! No, you _were_ a drunken fool!" Ah, terse. I hated when she got terse. "If Mr. Fullmark hadn't been as fast getting to you as he was...!"

 _'Mr. Fullmark?'_ That was rich, still with the way she was simmering it might be a bad idea to laugh... No, definitely a bad idea.

"Look, nothin' happened, alright? And ya heard what Klein said didn'tcha? I'm doin' better than I have in months. No limpin' around, or stutterin' joints. Might even be better than I was, even back then."

As if to stress the point, I reached out and took her hand gently in a fluid motion. Thought blending seamlessly into action, nerve sensors even allowed for the faintest sense of sensation from the contact. Jacob Ambrose: bit of a prat, a whole lotta genius.

"I'm _fine,_ Weiss. Good as new."

"...No, you're not." She drew back, the moment cut as sharp as her _Myrtenaster's_ blade. "You and I both know you haven't been for a long time. Not since Beacon, since Pyr..." Now it was my turn to tense, words failing her. "...I'm worried about you. Throwing yourself into this work, the things they're asking you to do- don't give that look! I still hear things; I'm not that sheltered. It's tearing at you, anyone can see that!"

"Well, at least it's somethin'!" The drumming resumed, a fierce intensity that beat like something Joel mght have listened to back in the good old days. "It's movin' forward, step by step. Better than sittin' around, playin' about like everythin's okay, when it's not!"

I'd gone too, far and regretted it almost immediately. I could see the hurt hit her like a physical blow, rocking her back in her seat.

"Ah... Shit, I... Sorry..."

Me and my big mouth...

"Ben, you...?"

"Dammit, Princess, I didn't mean for it to come out like that. I just meant...!"

...What _did_ I mean? A question that unfortunately would never be answered, the timely intervention of the glass doors creaking open stealing the meager excuses from my lips.

"Sister, is everything alright?"

For a moment, I'd thought Klein had stepped back out, the man having an almost preternatural ability to pop up when you least expected it, tea tray in hand. The truth, as always, never worked out so kindly. A flash of immaculately schooled white hair and an expression so alike to his father, it set my fingers twitching on reflex.

"I thought I heard shouting...?"

"It's... It's nothing, Whitley." Weiss turned to her brother, smiling warmly, or so she thought. It was a good attempt; well practiced. And anyone who really knew her wouldn't have bought it for a second. "Benjamin and I were just discussing the concert, weren't we? He was excited."

"Right. The concert, yeah."

I just nodded along dumbly, drawing in long breaths to steady myself back into calm before slapping on one of my classic smirks, all dopey optimism and roguish charm. A smile to underestimate.

"My bad, got a little worked up. Finally might get to hear your sister sing in person, after all." I flashed a gleaming smile that she awkwardly returned, the usual warmth conspicuously absent. "S'posed to really be somethin' special, I hear."

"Oh... Well I'm glad to hear it wasn't anything more serious," he perked up with a shrug of his thin shoulders, always moving, as though the thought of standing still was an alien concept to him. "I realize things have been a bit difficult recently, Specialist Carson...!"

"'Ben's' just fine. None of that 'Specialist' talk 'round here," I cut him off with a wave of subtle servos, noting the momentary flicker of annoyance tugging at the corner of his lip. A flicker swiftly covered up by an abashed calm serenity that didn't quite belong on a boy his age. "I mean, we're good as kin, right? Least that's how I see your sister. Both of 'em, actually."

There was something almost like a grimace at talk of Winter, going unnoticed by Weiss, but clear as day to my practiced eye.

Whitley had always rubbed me the wrong way ever since we'd first met when I arrived, proclaiming myself the Princess' Prince Charming... though as to why, I couldn't quite say. It wasn't like I had any right to judge a boy for disliking family, and he was young... Maybe it as the look of his father about him, far more apparent than any of the man's other children?

...Or perhaps the fact he didn't seem to care for me much?... Yeah, probably that.

"Well... _Ben..._ I hope you know we're all glad to hear you weren't harmed by those White Fang rabble-rousers. Father was quite worried, especially given distractions at home..."

Yeah, Jacques Schnee was worried about the young upstart bumpkin that cold cocked him in front of nearly a dozen witnesses, the one currently dating his daughter in open defiance of what he most certainly wished, sure.

Still, I nodded along kindly, letting the concealed reminder of the Badlands bite and then fade... For the moment.

"Speaking of Father, he was actually asking after you, Sister. Sounded quite insistent." Weiss blinked in surprise, hands smoothing down the minute imperfections in her dress as she clambered swiftly to her feet. "Something to do with advertising strategies for the charity gala. Commercial dealings, televised statements." His lip quirked as though amused at some joke, and for what it was worth, Weiss merely brought a hand to her forehead. "The usual rigmarole. Sorry to be a bother."

"No, it's alright, Whitley. Just the usual," she groaned, standing up tall and offering me one last fleeting look before marching quickly past her brother without another word.

I'd have to fix this, I knew I would. The incessant ache building behind my temples only stressed that particular point all the more deeply; retaliation for quick words and a frayed temper.

Weiss Schnee was doing the best she could in a rough situation, her battles different than mine in a hundred subtle ways. And still she cared. She was just trying to help, and I...?

"Don't s'pose the good general was askin' for me too, was he?" I asked hopefully in an attempt to rid the air of the tension hanging like a pall across the balcony, at least in my eyes. "If he's finished his fancy meetin'...?"

"Actually, General Ironwood left some few hours ago. Not too happy at all, from what I could see." Whitley shrugged animatedly, raising an inquisitive brow my way as though surprised I was still sitting before him. Disgusting as I was... "I suppose he must've just forgotten to collect you. A simple mistake. I can have Klein prepare a room appropriate for your... needs." He eyed my leg, and not with the piteous gaze of the concerned, but more a calculating air of superiority at odds with the bright lad from moments before. "It really must be hard, for a _hero_ such as yourself to have to limp and scrape...!"

"Oh, not so hard anymore. Guess ya really weren't listenin' in, huh? Pity."

At least I got the distinct pleasure of watching that look pale as I stood upright and stretched, displaying a full range of motion with none of the stuttering grunts and muttered curses that had previously plagued me. Instead there was little else but the buzzing pneumatics and humming servos playing out beneath my uniform, evidence of the more subtle, and still somewhat disturbing improvements that the youngest Ambrose had inflicted with my permission.

Slim, steel metallic plating and rivets now made up not only the bulk of my right shoulder, but spreading across much of my upper pectoral and a good third of my collarbone. Gone was the awkward knee bracing, cane, and the lingering shards of Cinder's glass, the limb now supported by internal metallic knee replacement prosthesis, as well as other more... _innovative_ ideas similar to the Professors own leg. He spared as much flesh as possible, keeping the surface pretty much intact, save for a scar over my knee, though I still couldn't think much about the end result without bile filling my mouth.

Still, visible or not, they had the desired effect of muting Daddy's Little Schnee standing before me. His slight frame jumped as I clapped a metallic hand on his shoulder jovially, though firmly enough to make it clear I was holding back plenty.

"Like I was tellin' your sister, I'm new and improved in more ways than one."

I pushed passed him, enjoying the fleeting warmth of the emotionally frigid estate before glancing over my shoulder at the boy's feverish attempts to scrape his clothes clean of me. It was kind of funny, as though he expected dust to follow me everywhere I went or something ridiculous like that. Not that I hadn't thought about it, this place could use some grime.

"Little lesson your daddy taught me since comin' here to Atlas. You know, after that bit of unpleasantness in Vale." I mimed a quick swipe, noting the red tinge creeping up the boys neck at the insolence and disrespect. "Pick your battles, take the small victories where you can, and..." I flashed a toothy smile that was all warning and no mirth, "...don't gloat. Not when the one you're teasin' still has a bit of a bite left in em'."

"Y-you jumped up...!? You can't...!?"

"Y'know, this was a real nice chat. Oughta do it again sometime, Whitney."

"It's _Whitley._ "

"Yeah, that's what I meant. I'm sure I'll get it right next time."

Oh, and meant it to, getting to relish for the first time in so long the distinctly warm fuzzy feeling of getting the last word in. Whistling a jaunty tune all the way...

* * *

 _ **-Reika Murasaki-**_

' _I could really use some luck right now... Or maybe a just break.'_

A nerve ticked above my eyebrow at the sudden, if all too familiar splintering of wood giving way under the weight of a body. I resisted the urge to leap into urgent action as a drunken lout half the size of an Ursa - and twice as ugly - floundered end over end across the driftwood surface of the table mere inches before my eyes, tumbling off in a bloodied and bruised heap.

The chaos upset the surface, and sent drink-filled mugs and bowels of steaming stew - including my dinner - spinning through the air in wild sprays across more than a few unlucky patrons seated across _Sordid Blue's_ dimly lit interior.

Cheers welled up from the other side of the packed tap room as the rough-looking victor of the impromptu brawl took her bows, and her fair share of drinks besides, from her adoring onlookers. Open calls for more challengers was swiftly overtaken by calls for more of the ' _grog_ ' the establishment sold in place of drinks and fuel, which were swiftly drowned by those starting up another rousing shanty.

In short, it was chaos... Loud, unmistakable _chaos._ Well beyond anything I'd ever truly experienced, even back in the various saloons Ben and his father had frequented during my time in the Badlands.

A land of gunfights, internecine drama, and blood feuds enough to fill an ocean, yet this was somehow worse. Level upon layered level of frolicking parties in taverns and markets built from detritus to shady back room deals in winding alleyways, heaped upon more chaotic displays of daring, as well the occasional posh display of wealth and class to rival anything Mistral or Atlas could compare.

And there I was, sitting right there in the middle of all of it, seated across from an unfortunately drenched Pino, with the architect of this madness - or at the very least the one who had dragged me down into the thick of it - lounging right next to me as though the glorified shack he'd dragged us to was the epitome of fine dining.

"...So, as I was saying, how _are_ you enjoying our fair Port Mooring, Miss Murasaki?"

"..."

Captain Harper Majorelle quirked a painted lip as he set his drink and food back down on the table, having snatched it up almost on instinct in response to the incoming threat, evidently used to such things. Taking my stern silence with the usual grace, no doubt noting the tick of my fingers towards the Horo-Sha, following the exchange with some amusement.

"This lot can prove a rather... well, a rather _lively_ bunch," the Captain waved a delicate hand about at the milling crowd, many of those closest raising toasts and nodding heads in deference. "Though you must admit, you'll never lack for excitement, even if tonight is proving rather tame."

He said the words amidst the crack of knuckles, as another challenger threw their hat into the ring, having taken the previous victor's gloating as a chance to land a cheap shot.

"I... I'm sorry, but did you say 'tame,' uh... C-Captain Majorelle?" Pino muttered in blank disbelief, looking on in uncomfortable horror at such a display of open violence, his old instincts rearing their head despite his recent attitude towards the shifting weapon at his belt.

A good thing, too, otherwise he might just be insufferable. But as it stood, there was still enough of the pacifistic boy I knew there to keep an eye on.

Bad enough he was referring to this thieving pirate with any sort of respect, even after the whole kidnapping affair. You'd think that might make things a bit awkward, but as usual, I seemed to find myself paired off with boys without a lick of proper appreciation for danger. My curse, it appeared.

"So there's usually, um... _more?_ "

"Why certainly, my dear boy!" that curiously lilted voice responded in genuine surprise, as though the answer should have been obvious. "This little show here is all rather subdued, by comparison, don't you think?"

"O-oh, really? I hadn't noticed."

The young Healer tore his eyes away just as a tooth went flying - not even the second or third this night alone - a cold shiver working its way down his spine. Pino would be up and out of his seat soon enough, I expected, tending to the nastiest bruises, and mixing herbal remedies for the worst hangovers by morning, unable to help himself.

For now, he just contented himself with squirming in his seat, and shooting me the occasional furtive silent response to my queries and concerns. More the latter really.

 _"You are being rather rude, Reika."_ My friend was currently chiding in broken hand sign, all too obvious and far too clumsy with the inflection. Though much of that might be his attempts to pass off the gestures as random quirks, an act Majorelle certainly wasn't buying, though the Horo-Sha seemed to believe ironclad. _"Ask him a question; spark a conversation... I can help translate if you want...!?"_

A particularly loud stomp of my foot was enough to convey my feelings on that matter, even if my eyes never left that smiling face for more than it took to make sure his hands stayed where I could see them on the rattling table. It was paranoia learned from more than a few deals gone bad watching Ben's back.

Feelings I thought more than justified in carrying over to the present.

Nodding his masked visage in sober acknowledgement, Pino returned his focus to the verbal, entertaining our 'host,' despite faltering over every word. "It's just I... Well, I find it rather hard to believe, C-Captain Maj...?"

"'Harper,' please. We're ashore and amongst friends. I think we can afford to let the formalities slip a tad. As long as it doesn't follow us back aboard." I was shocked, having never heard a direct order delivered quite so... casually. Even old Bill usually delivered his instructions - the important ones, anyway - with a little more steel in his tone. "As for the rather droll entertainment... Hmm. All my fault, I expect. And here I'd promised you both a true taste of life at port."

A calculated shrug, a flash of pearly white teeth accompanied by a brush of false hair. "D-Droll?"

"...?"

"Indeed. A pity. It seems the _Red Row_ has grown a might bit dull in my absence."

The Captain didn't raise his voice, the comment by all rights consigned to be lost amidst the din, but somehow, it appeared every soul in the tavern had heard it regardless.

The atmosphere of the place tensed for a fraction of a heartbeat before returning to its previous frivolity, money changing hands, waifs barely older than toddlers scampering about underfoot looking for loose Lien and the occasional tale from older sailors. I could feel the underlying change, however, through my Semblance, an emotional tide building through the Aura of every soul in earshot, all whirling about the painted dandy enjoying a tankard beside me.

An odd feeling, and a dangerous one. A move that displayed clearly and succinctly that Majorelle held all the cards. That this was _his_ territory.

Politics in Mooring were difficult to understand at the best of times, and utterly convoluted at the worst, even for one well used to the steady back and forth of Gang relationships and Posse feuds common in the Badlands.

As a Captain of his own vessel - and an impressive one, at that - Majorelle was to be afforded a fair level of respect and prestige by the locals. Many of whom the family and friends of those who served on the _Prism's_ voyages, and enjoyed a cut of her spoils.

Beyond even that, however, Harper Majorelle was apparently one of the vaunted Merchant Princes of Mooring. A title that even the boatswain Shean and all his flair had failed to convey the full gravitas of.

In short, within a city state of thieves, merchants, pirates and the like, Majorelle was of a select company above and well beyond. Responsible not just for the running of the various fleets and armadas from dreadnoughts near the equal of the _Colorless Prism_ itself to tugs and fishing boats, or the varied economic pursuits a city of criminals could dip its palms into, but his own sizable slice of the city itself.

His own Quarter... His seat of authority where he was law and life.

As it was explained, 'a Captain was expected to provide for his crew, but a Prince was expected to provide for his people'.

Much of what I saw of this particular part of Mooring - the so-called _Red Row_ \- was the fine wooden slats that comprised its streets to the lines of burning Dust bulbs and lanterns that provided a constant source of illumination, and even those responsible for their upkeep. All of it belonged to him, provided by his wealth and influenced by his tastes, or lack of any.

Harper's domain was much like the _Prism_ itself: a mismatch of scattered cultural markers and traditions brought over by the peoples it comprised, and built in maddening layers.

Apparently, the fiefdoms of other Princes within the Port City were quite the same in that they were all wildly different, few alike in any meaningful way other than a shared allegiance. Differing styles of architecture, atmospheres, even more than a few differing laws marked the separation acutely. Some were built out and organized in neat uniform rows, others somehow more wild and populous than even Harper's domain.

It was the responsibility of a Quarter's Prince to use their power in all its forms to maintain order, maintain appearance; and to simply _maintain_.

According to Shean, if a Prince couldn't even do that much, then plenty of others would be more than willing to do so in their stead. That it was a lifelong position only cemented the hidden implications behind that particular statement.

"Another round for my compatriots! My personal stocks, if you would! In fact, how about another round for everybody!?" Cheers welled up at the generous declaration, smiles shining on every face except those of the overworked staff. Of course, even their sweat-drenched brows couldn't suppress their grins when Majorelle assured them how generous he would be for their hard work. "Now then, lads, let's see if we can't have ourselves a proper party! To a voyage well spent, and spoils well earned!"

 ** _"FOR HARPER AND PLUNDER!"_**

The chant started up, the Captain standing weightlessly on the back of his chair, and raising a mug high in their honor and his own. Music swelled from seemingly nowhere, and shanties freely sung, drinking games and brawls resumed in earnest. Souls danced and flitted about with utter abandon.

It was chaos, pure and simple, and it was spreading. First spilling out the driftwood paneled doors and onto the wooden decks that constituted the _Red Row's_ winding streets, looping through alleys and coursing along the docks like an ocean's current. The distant boom and bloom of fireworks exploding overhead was enough to rattle the ceiling overhead. Joy and frivolity, daring and curiosity, so many emotions...

 _"How?"_

My fingers wavered as they signed the question I couldn't help but 'voice', my Semblance reacting so strongly to the uptick in sheer emotion, it felt as though the whole world was swimming, and that was just in this room. Being in Mooring - experiencing it - was like being on the _Prism,_ only magnified a hundred fold. Utterly intoxicating... I felt a sense of unified purpose, shared by an overwhelming sensation of freedom and expression I'd never felt before.

Here, one could be anything they wanted, so long as they had the power to seize it.

 _"How can this be real?... How does this work!?"_

"It's a fine balance we keep here, matey. Living freely within a shared list of rather mutable boundaries..."

It took me a moment to realize through my _Sense_ that Pino hadn't been the one who had spoken, having been dragged off despite his protests for a dance by a few serving girls in elaborate attire that was more colorful than covering.

No, instead Majorelle alighted back upon the table from his little sojourn among his 'friends,' landing lightly with the grace of a dancer to place a foaming tankard down before me.

Harper Majorelle lived freely, and his Semblance reflected that near-perfectly.

A wicked grin curled his lip as he flipped end over end to land in the seat without a fake hair out of place, his 'gift' making it all rather easy, as though gravity itself had no grasp on him.

Or maybe the grin was his awkward admission that he'd been able to read my hand sign all along, though when he would've managed to learn...?

 _"You...?"_

"True... It can be rather tiring at times, I do admit, but it has its charms. And its fringe benefits." He nodded to Pino, spinning and laughing, even if he was likely blushing redder than his mask from what I could feel. And I wasn't sure how okay I was with that, even if anything beat his incessant moping.

I didn't think I'd ever forgive old Lux and the Horo-Sha for what they did to him.

"Far better than those savage brutes in Safehold, at least. They're so mired in their backwards ways, they shun any and all contact with anything having to do with the outside world. Well... anything that doesn't help make killing Grimm any easier. Bastion is little better. There's so many little traditions; so many rules and expectations... And that 'Queen' of theirs." A frown threatened to mar his good mood, swiftly drowned beneath a few hearty gulps from his own drink. " _Mmm-hah..._ Really, it's a wonder they'd lasted so long without this little war of theirs to liven things up."

 _"War? There's a war going on?"_ My hands shook, forming the unfamiliar sign with quivering fingers. The meaning was obvious enough by my expression.

"Why, of course it is!... What? Mooring's armadas ranging far across the seas, Safehold's warriors milling about on our decks, eager for a chance to step foot on the 'cowardly' Kingdoms' collective doorsteps, and fight for their Queen Rowan. Why, then you have Bastion and this Red Hand of theirs surrendering themselves near fully to one man's all-encompassing vision of conquest. Mark me, this is a war, Miss Murasaki, as surely as there be Grimm beneath the waves to swallow the unwary."

I couldn't help the thrill of nervous tension run down my spine at the word. One I rarely, if ever, had any cause to use. Despite living in the Badlands for most of my life, it was still a part of Remnant. And Remnant was at peace.

All the whisperings these last few months, the murmured talk of the Frontier lashing out, had all been swiftly buried under calls alluding to that simple immutable fact.

Remnant was at peace... But no... It _wasn't._ Vale had proven that. I'd just been denying it.

 _"Why?"_ It seemed a reasonable enough question to follow up with, my hands trembling on the tankard so much it sloshed foamy suds across the wooden surface. _"Why fight it?"_

"A question with as many answers as there are people fighting, I expect." Harper said unhelpfully, waving a hand as though he weren't talking over a conflict of world-shaking proportions. "Be it delusions of things like 'glory' or 'honor,' a belief in something greater driving people to fight, matters of race and creed, or just good old fashioned profit. Take your pick, or add your own. It's rather simple in truth."

" _It's war..."_

"Yes, yes it is."

It still didn't mean it made any sense, at least not to me.

War had always seemed this distant, outlandish thing. Something as fairy tale as the _Tale of the Four Seasons_ , or the _Shallow Sea,_ even if the Badlands and its nearby neighbor Vacuo were proven examples of what that one word could encompass and the lasting examples it held. The Desert Kingdom and the lands surrounding it had once been fertile and beautiful, its peoples wanting for nothing. And then Atlas and Mistral had come and torn that all asunder.

And then came the Grimm to finish the job. Only by all the myriad cultures of Remnant coming together had they been stopped.

 _'And now it's all falling apart...'_

 _"Those aren't good reasons!"_ That denial sounded childish the moment I expressed the opinion, but Harper only nodded along rather than laughed or insulted. _"They **aren't!** All this does is harm everybody, and helps no one!"_

"According to the architect of it all, this war is the only way to _save_ mankind. The only chance to salvage anything from the mess this supposed 'peace' has garnered for us." I glared, the effect similar in manner to a mouse bad-eyeing a Beowolf, but at least the Captain didn't see fit to eat me after raising an eyebrow. "Now, now, no need for that! The belief does hold some water. I mean, what did the Kingdoms of Remnant do when one of their own all but fell to the Grimm? Did they band together to save lives? Have they worked together to reestablish the bonds of contact between themselves and their fellows?"

No to both questions, at least as far as I knew. I'd seen Vale both during and in the aftermath of the attack, and the Atlesian presence hadn't exactly remained anything near consistent. With the CCT down, people couldn't talk to one another. Nor did it seem they had any desire to.

"The ship I obtained young Pino and yourself on was one of the few trade vessels we've seen these last few months, and Mooring has rather excellent eyes for such things. No Dust, no foodstuffs, no aid supplies or soldiers of any kind... Not exactly the actions of a 'united' accord. If anything, Bastion's warmongering has cost us rather dearly. Scared Kingdoms and nervous merchants don't often put their valuables out on the open water."

Ben and his father's words echoed in my ears. Words that had guided me through a life of organized crime. _'We're not killers, or saints. We're **businessmen.** Plain and simple."_

 _"Then why fight at all, if there's no profit in it?"_

That part I still didn't get. This war didn't fit Majorelle. It didn't fit what I was feeling from this whole city... or at least most of it. Flickering only meters away, drawing ever closer step by step...

"We're a city of thieves and ne'er-do-wells in a land of tradition and honor, my dear Reika. We overstep convention, push the line, but to survive we've more than once found it prudent to just go with the flow of things." I fidgeted in my seat, training my senses along with my Semblance outward, though Majorelle was so caught up in his reminiscing that of all things, _this_ was what he missed. "Against a man like our dear Cahalrym, it's best not to 'rock the boat,' as they say in the Kingdoms. Even if we all might not _entirely_ agree..."

" _You_ might not agree, Harper! Don't go making such wild claims for the rest of us!"

I blinked at the silvery clipped tone carrying from the doorway, not that that was unexpected. What caught me off guard, however, was the sheer unexpected amount of venom it carried throughout the Auras of all who heard it, carried in the undertones of every syllable.

"It's poor form, one might think you were looking to start rumors!"

A pervasive pall had fallen about the whole of the bar, accompanied by a near-deafening silence, broken only by the steady thumping metallic march of something or someone fast approaching our table in perfect synchronized lock step.

A sound I knew all too well. A noise all bandits in the Badlands knew, and one rather difficult to forget.

One that made me reach to prime _Iron Blossom_ with a soundless snarl, only to have the hand caught firmly by Majorelle himself, his face gone stonily neutral in an expression of pleasant surprise. Another farce, of course. The sensation I could feel radiating off his Aura was enough to leave my skin crawling.

Turning in my seat, it was easy to pick out the oncoming angular, red-lit frames of Atlesian Knight-130 models. The same used by the Schnee Dust Company in particular to manage security and defend their shipments, though these were far from the standardized models I was used to seeing.

Their dull grey plate was daubed in brightly colored garish symbols near to bordering on the offensive and none, at least from what little I could make out and understand, were very flattering towards the Northern Kingdom. Their weapons and components were similarly customized, arm blades serrated to a glinting edge, gun barrels bulked with drums of a size beyond the point of excessive, armor bulked in places beyond the standard.

The lone man hovering between them wasn't much better. A clean-shaven narrow face with a beak-like nose and eyes like some sort of avian predator. Windswept green hair, and the embroidered cloak he wore about his shoulders only further aiding the rakish image of a plumed bird. Dressed in the torn and battered uniform of an Atlesian Airship Captain, marked out by more than a few non-standard additions in the form of delicate chains and braids laden with rank medals and commendations hanging about his chest like trophies. Like a magpie... Maybe Ben had something with his nicknames, after all.

" _Tobias..._ I was actually wondering what was taking you so long to come calling. I feared you had marched yourself off a pier with those tin soldiers of yours. What a relief..." Majorelle said, clearly meaning quite the opposite, though from his tone alone one would never contemplate the anger and negativity brewing beneath the surface. At least not until you got up close. Hovering between the two... like sitting in the middle of a storm.

"Miss Murasaki, meet Tobias Quinn. Captain of the Airship _Northern Lament_ , Merchant Prince of Mooring, the _current_ Grand Admiral of the Dragon's Claw Armada, Scourge of Mantle, Reaver of... Oh, it really doesn't matter. Those and a dozen other little titles all stemming from an Atlesian deck officer who strung up the Captain of a rather impressive airship, reprogrammed a few drones, and convinced a few of his less patriotic compatriots to follow him into piracy." The perfect white smirk swiftly vanished from Quinn's face, replaced first by a look of rage, and then grudging contempt. "Thought I'd save the girl a poor tale, and myself the need to wash my mouth out afterwards."

"First you speak out against the Cahalrym, then you think to insult a fellow Captain... your _Tomade; a_ _Pnudran eh Ynsc!?_ I see banishment hasn't made you any less bold, or any less foolish!"

"Save me that Frontier Speak, will you? Your accent is atrocious, and I doubt you even understood half of it." Harper waved aside the insults - quite literally waving them aside - the act enough to put a few smiles in the crowd until the robotic sentinels shifted in agitated response to their Master's anger. "And it wasn't 'banishment.' Violette set me the task of disrupting the Kingdom's shipping lanes, which I've done so. Quite efficiently, I might add." He spared me a wink, his hand drumming out a tempo on _Iron Blossom's_ violet plating. "Really, it's not _my_ fault if there were far less ships on the water than he expected, is it? If he's keelhauled us all as _Bnela_ , we might as well serve with distinction, even if the profits are rather light on our end."

"You keep telling yourself that, Harper, if it makes you feel better. It holds you back, and allows the rest of us to rise in your stead." Quinn scowled, shaking his head and seeming to notice me for the first time. "This is her then, I take it? One of your...'spoils?' The Huntress who cannot seem to speak." I bristled under the snide disregard he held me under, the way his eyes roved across my small frame. "Hmph. Certainly doesn't look like much. And she brought down how many of your men?"

"Several, which I take it only means she's worth at least _twice_ the number of your little toys here." The Captain indicated the drones with a grimace of distaste, a slight tremor rippling through the robots' movements, as though they understood and took offense. "You've made your show of barking like a good lap dog, now do run back to the others, won't you? Let them know how much I appreciate being back home among friends."

"I think will at that, especially when the _Cahalrym_ himself arrives to oversee that matters concerning his ideals held are well in hand." His smirk indicated he'd hoped to catch Harper off guard with the pronouncement. This ' _Cahalrym'_ person no doubt quite a big deal around these parts, the word not unfamiliar. "I'm certain Lord Violette will be most intrigued to hear of your side ventures; your renewed commitment to the cause."

"Yes, yes, I'm sure our glorious leader will, at that. A few praises here and there, some drinks; should be a grand old time with the Warmonger." Majorelle leaned back, snickering with an air of complete and utter ease. One Quinn didn't seem to appreciate, not that our lead cared. "You can ship off now, 'Friend.' Methinks your welcome has worn itself out a tad. There's the door." He waved a short _*ta-ta.*_

Quinn opened his mouth, no doubt hoping to get the last word in, but was stopped at first by the telltale tap of an armored boot whirring to life about Harper's heels, an audible signal for others in the bar to make for weapons. Even Pino had a trembling hand on the jingling blade at his belt, and with a start, I found that my captor had released my arm as well, my hand curled into a fist capable of crushing stone.

Against the other Prince alone, the braggart might have thought to try something, but in the face of such odds, even the most daring of souls could only run for the door. Which was pretty much the case, Quinn merely adopting an arrogant trot as he spun on his heel, giving the impression that leaving was his choice.

A move which only made him seem smaller in my eyes, as I didn't need a Semblance to show me the truth of the defeat. I also didn't need it to tell me that Tobias Quinn would be trouble. A sentiment shared by Majorelle, it seemed.

"Well, that was... _unfortunate._ I'd rather hoped to avoid showing you off just yet." A statement quite at odds with the easy way he lounged back, leaving me looking at the door nervously. "I might have just made you an enemy. By _accident,_ of course. Again, my apologies for that."

"...?" I raised an eyebrow, opening my mouth as though half expecting a groan to spill forth. It didn't, of course, but maybe perhaps...

 _"You were b_ _anished?"_

"No, I had a disagreement. Quite the difference. Like keeping my head on my shoulders, for one! Fine arrangement, that." He toasted high, a motion copied throughout the tavern. "I don't have to like this war, Miss Reika. I'll fight it if I have to, if it means protecting this here." A broad hand wave to encompass the whole of the bar, the whole of Mooring, "But if our dear _Cahalrym_ and the other bootlicker Princes think I'll do so without a bit of complaint here and there, well..."

He trailed off, the rare flicker of a frown swiftly lost in his cups, but I could feel the ripple of unease underneath the lie.

Mooring was dangerous... And not for the first time I wondered just what madness I'd been pulled into.

* * *

 _ **-Ciane Skye-**_

It over took an hour of running - of cutting back and weaving through dark alleys and through the little dingy hideaways a lifetime of petty and not so petty larceny had taught me - before I finally judged myself to be in the clear.

To be fair, I'd probably lost most if not all my pursuers after the initial jump, swiftly darting away from the sight of my moderately-sized impact crater just in case that scary bugger had tracked me. A feat I wasn't going to take any chances of him accomplishing, and fleeing back into the sea of society.

Still, the rest had been for peace of mind. And one never could be too careful, as my first mentor had always chided. I'd already taken more than a few risks tonight as it was.

So it was with a weary sigh, and no small amount of relief, that I found myself knocking on the back door to a rather small, if lavishly designed studio. Broad window slats along the front were covered in variously colored cloths, and back lit by soft hued lanterns that only sharpened the shadow figures cast upon them, their dark shapes almost appearing to move the longer one looked. The entire building was seemingly wrought around the bending and shaping of light, puppeteering into the most dynamic of forms for the admiration of all.

Such a thing only made sense. It was a Shadow Play Theatre, after all. A subtle art. Not at all like the flashy girl who slid open the door to reveal my bedraggled features.

"'Sup, Mimi?" I smiled weakly, propping a hand against the door frame in an attempt to look impressive. "Guess what? Plan went off with barely a...!?"

" _Skye!_ "

If I'd been able too, I might've tried to duck out of the way of the path of the squealing ball of energy wrapped up in the artistic mess of garishly pink robes and fabrics that was Mimi Maxim and her flailing bangle laden arms. From the speed and high-pitched nature of my friend's response, I dared say I was about to experience quite the attack hug in the making, such things usually rather boisterous and more often than not a bit too constricting.

Unfortunately at the moment, such a thing was quite beyond me at the moment. My whole body ached like one overlarge bruise, muscles tender, joints creaking from the sheer ferocity of my escape.

 _Overdrive_... One hell of a Semblance, supercharging the enhancing qualities of Aura into a burst of sudden explosive physical energy. Quite useful, particularly in allowing for the user to fight, or more often flee, trouble whenever it reared its ugly head.

 _'Shame the backlash is such a killer...'_ I mused with a resigned grimace, accepting the sudden impact that tore the air from my lungs and bore me to the enameled wood of the back room in a heap. Stirring weakly and doing my utmost to calm the gal currently sobbing and sniffling her way into my chest, soaking my tunic through in moments.

"Oh, you had me so, so, _so_ worried!" she wailed, easing back to look down at me, brushing at a bright pink ringlet hanging in front of her eye that clashed so marvelously with the darker shades of her skin. "When Mikado came back crying about...!"

"Oi, speak for yourself! I wasn't crying!"

The smaller girl was lifted off me by the back of her shirt, squeaking in protest and flailing at the broad chest of the Bear Faunus dock worker who I'd met before that whole fiasco.

"Skye said she could handle it, and look! She's fine, like I said she'd be!" He gestured to me, unable to quite hide the flicker of worry at the sight of me working my way up to a seated position, rubbing gingerly at my side. "You _are_ fine, right?"

"Aww, worried about me, Teddy Bear?" I stuck my tongue out, smiling through the pain. "How sweet." He spluttered, losing his grip on Mimi in the process. The diva squirming free before moving swiftly to help me to my feet. "Do you mind? I could really use a...?" I didn't even need to finish, my friend nodding once with a smile before I took her hand more firmly this time. "Thanks, Doll."

"Heheh... Anytime, Boss." Cyan energy mixed with crackling pale yellow wildness burned off me in staggered waves, easing once more as pink motes began to dot its surface in calm flowing patterns.

Now I was the one holding her up rather than the other way around, energy and vigor returning to aching limbs while draining hers near to entirety. It would pass in a short while, I knew, but for the moment at least I wasn't liable to faint on my feet.

As a test, I held up a hand, an Auratic beacon of gentle yet strong pulsing soul matter forming in my hand. Invisible only to me... or normally it would be.

"Ooh...pretty..."

I looked down at the girl slumped in my grasp, her wide eyes staring with a somewhat glazed stupor towards the miniature torch. Of course she'd be able to see it, too. It was her power after all. Simple, useful, all of my friend's abilities were after a fashion.

Abilities that would have no doubt served them well as Huntsmen and Huntress, if they held any talent for it.

"Any news from Dandee?" I asked the Bear Faunus, crushing the beacon and passing off a weary Mimi to him before tugging my ragged cloak off with a huff as we moved into the back room living area our little band all shared.

Nothing too special. A few worn couches and a kitchen set up, a television Mikado had scrounged from work, a few eclectic sculptures of Mimi's creation... It kept the cold out, and it was home.

"I was on the run, had to work fast. Hit him hard, from what I saw."

"Thought as much. Explains why he's lights out, then." Mikado gestured with a long nailed hand towards the couch where a familiar bedraggled shape was strewn out, snoring softly. The 'Bum' I'd clipped before during the chase. "Came by a few minute 'fore you did, and told us what happened. How close..."

"Hey, it all worked out. No need to worry." I unslung my bag and held out up to show him, jangling the contents within. "Kage will owe us big after this one. Hopefully enough to leave us some scraps after they crush those weirdos down to size, and whatever little bit of trouble they're cooking up along with it."

Which would hopefully happen soon. Those charts, the plans they foretold, all of it was more than a little unnerving.

It meant trouble... And trouble hardly paid well.

"Speaking of which, Azure still up? Thinking she'll want to get these out as soon as...?"

Mikado was grinning that silly smirk of his, and it took me only a second after the satchel had already been swiped to realize why. "Yes, Skye, dear. I would indeed."

I turned, catching sight of a tall, deeply tanned woman looking back at me with a stern expression, bedecked in a fine silk night gown that flowed seamlessly in the dim light cast by the candles, her bluish black hair free of its usual braid, flowing in a cresting fall down her back. That would have been enough to draw the eye in most cases, but then your eyes caught the extra set of hare-like ears lying against her scalp, twitching every so often between breaths.

Tian "Azure" Lán, the proprietor of this little well-to-do theater, and our 'employer' to anyone who asked, though not a whole lot of people did. She was also steeped in deep with the Kage. Her family was apparently pretty well connected back in far-off Mistral's seedier circles, the hare-Faunus using those connections to secure herself a pretty lucrative position of note within certain... 'less-than legal' operations.

Running my group and acting as liason was only one of several such duties, but even so, Lán was always helpful; always willing to cut a break. Though tonight...

"Mikado, go see Mimi back to her room, then to bed with you. I'm gonna need your help bright and early for some shows tomorrow. No fussing."

Mikado started, opening his mouth to protest, but was smart enough to know he was being dismissed. Thankfully, he was also smart enough to know when not to argue, nodding to me once before bundling up Mimi over one shoulder, and marching towards a set of stairs leading up into the theater's loft spacing.

"Okay, then," I said soon after he'd fled from sight, listening for the telltale closing of doors to the landing above before looking at the shadow artist. "What's wrong this time?"

"You tell me."

I was taken aback by the nervous air about her, long experience reading others making the act almost instinctual.

Lán was worried. Something was up.

"It seems you have a... guest of sorts. He arrived soon after you'd scampered off. Insisted on waiting, even after I said you might not be back until late. Important news, apparently." She brought a thumb to her lip, chewing at the nail in that manner she did when she was twitchy; a tell I'd picked out after years of working with her. "Says he's an old friend of yours, though he seems rather... well, strange."

"He?" I furrowed my brow, letting my concern show. "Wait, strange _how?_ "

"Well, he's all bundled up, for one. Refuses to show his face. And trust me, I even asked nicely."

That was concerning. A secret mystery caller. At least it wasn't likely to be Big Mouth. Not if he's been kept waiting.

"Like I said, he's bit weird. Thought he might've been Kage, someone new; I don't know. But I'm not so sure."

"Really? I'm surprised you didn't just kick him out." I looked down at the bag she held, cupping my chin, deep in thought.

"I would have if he hadn't given me a few of those silly old key phrases."

I froze stock still, head snapping up so fast I heard an audible *krik*.

"Just like the ones you used to make me use back when I first took you in. ' _Shadowspiel,_ ' was it? Remember 'Horizon seeking Rabbit's Den?' That nonsensical jargon. It was something along those... Skye?"

No... That was _impossible._ Those phrases had been a holdover from my days back in the slums. Quick negligible little slum language that could be used to signal others that varied depending on who used it and with whom. Warn others if the authorities were cracking down on bad Marks, passwords for sanctuary...It was an old bit of gang culture.

One that had seen some popularity until evolving into the simpler marking symbols and gestures Kage used these days. Almost impossible to crack because the meaning would only ever apply to certain people or groups personally, the definition shifting as it went with each new addition.

Almost no one, even those still sticking around from the old days, would know how to leave me a message in Shadowspiel... But _he_ would... He'd been one of the original minds behind it.

But it couldn't be... Not after so long.

"...What did he say?"

"Hmm?" The Faunus' ears perked up, her stare taking on a touch of further concern at how pale I was fast becoming, the desperate hitch in my voice. "What does that...?"

" _What_ did he say, exactly?" I said again, firmer this time, fists clenched and my jaw set.

"He said..." She cleared her throat, the broker swiftly clearing her throat to remove the shaky tone from her voice, remembering that she was supposed to be in charge. Still, I wasn't about to back down. "For your information, young lady, he said 'Eyes requests Clouds, differing patterns. Reunion and renewal,'" she sounded out the words with a quirk on her lip, as if tasting something strange. "Sounded like nonsense to me, but he seemed keen on... Skye? Skye!?"

Her words fell on deaf ears, as I was already pushing past her, sprinting through the hallways of guttering candles and shifting shadows towards the door leading into Lán's offices. I was trying very hard to ignore the way the Dust-driven flames almost seemed to flicker violet, just like those eyes I recalled so long ago.

It _was_ him!

And that had to be impossible... Right? _Right!_?

Throwing open the door - almost kicking it down, actually - all trace of my earlier exhaustion was forgotten in the sudden rush of revelation and adrenaline. And I froze.

A small space, lined in book shelves, light frames, color swathes and the like, it was a place meant to be cozy, dominated by a thick oak desk currently devoid of the hare Faunus' usual clutter. A sensible measure, seeing as such things were no doubt sensitive, and not the sort of thing you leave open and about when you have a guest, especially one like this.

Seated before the desk was a man, straight backed and perfectly poised in a manner that seemed far too large for the simple chair he lounged in, or even the space around him. His whole body was covered head to foot in thick garments, billowing slacks, a hooded jacket that he wore done up, concealing every inch of his features aside from his hand that moved over the desk.

A gnarled thing that made my gorge rise to look at, the skin discolored and misshapen, though possessive of a strange sort of grace, almost like Big Mouth's had been, but more... 'refined,' I suppose would be the word for it.

Each motion was measured to exacting degrees as it drifted over the pages of a small booklet, all blank... No, not blank. Bumps covered the interior, small bubbles along the parchment that he examined in turn.

Aside from that small motion, he was almost entirely unmoving. He hardly even seemed to breathe, back to the door. But it was strange.

Instantly, I got the impression he knew I was there regardless, able to see the clawed gauntlets now extended along my arms, and held at the ready.

A feeling I recognized, surprisingly. That sense of being watched, looked over and regarded...

"...Eyes in the Clouds. Reunite after long dusk..." a voice murmured, barely above a whisper, muffled as if spoken behind a blanket. So much weaker than I remembered. Broken, but still somehow recognizable... "...You've grown, Skye. Remarkable... I can hardly believe it."

"...I-I... I don't believe it."

It was him. Somehow, after all these years, after so long of thinking he'd been killed by that mad hunter, or abandoned her and the others to the streets... It was _him._

"H-Hei?"

"Yes, it's been quite some time. Hasn't it?"

"Hei, you..." It was tough to breathe, my chest tightening in a way that had nothing to do with my exertions earlier. The man, the visitor, cocked his hooded head as though confused, probably the way my hands were curling into tightly balled fists. "...you _unbelievable BASTARD!_ Where the hell have you been!?"

* * *

-END

* * *

 **-OC Voice Cast Introduced this Chapter-**

Tobias Quinn - Tim Curry

Mimi Maxim - Janice Kawaye

Mikado Kuma - Imari Williams

Tian "Azure" Lán - Lauren Landa

* * *

 **A/N: Hey all, been awhile. Life's been pretty hectic with the holidays and I've been chugging away on other stuff, been tough to find time to focus on this in particular. Excuses I know, but I gotta eat too sadly, need to get the motivation flowing.**

 **So for this chapter we've got Reika delving deeper into the politics of Mooring, and a new Captain who if you haven't noticed doesn't really care for Atlas much. Ben's got a new arm (Thinking a sleeker version of Mcree's from Overwatch or Ironwood's) and a new lease on life, at the very least he can move again (And hopefully hold his own in a scrap) though its certainly far from comfortable. And finally Ciane stumbles home after a very long night to find an old friend waiting for her (Sorry Baz, I swear he'll be back again one day.)**

 **Shoutout to Reduced20 for allowing me to use Tian Lan, tried to work her into the story and only took me a few months.**

 **Anyway feel free to let me know what you think on how things are proceeding so far, till next time! - Mojo**

* * *

 _ **(Next Chapter: Someone looks in on RNJR.)**_


	26. Chapter 26

_**Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_.

* * *

CERTAINLY A THING

* * *

 ** _-Ruby Rose-_**

"Why!? Why are you doing this!?"

A loud crash and the sound of splintering wood filled the air as a half dozen large men kicked and swung at a stall set up along the road, spilling the fruits and vegetables it carried into the dirt. A stall like any other, except that it was manned by a young woman quivering as she was held back roughly by another thug, tears streaking cheeks bearing thin, mouse-like whiskers.

"P-please!" she cried out again, struggling fruitlessly in her assailant's grasp, and looking out at the crowd of onlookers surrounding them on the dirt road. Men, women, and children all looking on either in nervous apprehension, or, more commonly much to my dismay, with looks of approval. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

"Sure. You haven't done anything wrong _yet!_ " one of the thugs called back, bringing the lead pipe he carried down to smash a melon with a sickening * _squelch*_ that drew a few whoops from the crowd. "Give it time! You freaks are always up to something nasty, aren't you? Well we won't stand for it! Not today!"

"Right!" His companion ripped at the covered awning, tearing the fabric to shreds with dirtied nails. "I'm thinking we should just run the whole lot of ya outta town. Save the Reds the trouble when they swing by! Do us all a favor!"

"You... Y-you can't be serious!?" The Mouse Faunus stared out again at the crowd, begging for someone to help. Everyone was too scared or too enthralled to intervene.

Then her eyes fell on me...

"Ruby, c'mon." I stiffened at Jaune's hand on my shoulder, pulling insistently away from the confrontation. "We should get going. Don't want Ren and Nora getting too far ahead of us."

"And let those jerks just do what they want!?" Deep down, I knew he had a point. In a situation like this, we were the outsiders, not them. Still... "Jaune, we're Hunters! We're supposed to help people when they're in trouble!" I pointed back behind me as the screams upped in volume. "She's in trouble!"

"They also have guns, and outnumber us."

True enough. They might be using whatever they could grab for now, but it hadn't taken me long to pick out the blocky shape of guns, or the blades of axes sitting on hips. I would have thought they were guards - the kind often responsible for responding to Grimm attacks in villages like these - but something felt off.

These guys didn't act untrained. At least some were moving with purpose rather than just malice.

Of course, even Jaune, with less experience, had already figured that much as well.

"I don't like it anymore than you do, but if things goes wrong, even a little bit..." He left the possibilities hanging. Possibilities I'd already considered. It also didn't help that he was as angry as I was, his grip tight to stop the shaking. I knew enough signs from Yang to see that. "We have to be smart now. Mistral... Mistral isn't like it used to be. And they mentioned the Red Hand, right? The 'Reds', what if these jerks work for them?"

...Angry or not, he made a good point.

With a sympathetic crowd watching, who knew what would happen or how many people might get pulled into a fight if one kicked off? It was sad, but they looked more like the Red Hand thugs, or whoever they were just wanted to make a statement, not hurt anybody.

It was smarter to wait. Smarter to let things pass so long as they...

Then the one holding the Faunus let out a yelp after receiving a low blow - the kind my sister had schooled into me - that left him doubled over and groaning. His captive ran, doing her best to shove at the men destroying her livelihood, right up until a backhand slap sent her sprawling into the dirt...

"Okay, that's it! Forget what I said! We're... Hey, _Ruby!?_ Wait for...!?" Jaune made another grab, and ended up pulled along in shower of rose petals with a hand on his sword and the other on my hood. The whole of the crowd skirting back to give us room, leaving us quite alone with the seven assailants and their intended victim.

And now her _very much_ intended saviors.

" _Leave her alone!_ " I declared grandly, red cloak fluttering for effect behind me. Uncle Qrow always said it paid to look impressive, after all. I reached a hand out behind my back. I didn't want to draw _Crescent Rose,_ but I would if I had to. "What's the matter with you all!?"

 _'Maybe I **should,** actually...'_

Nothing like a scythe/sniper rifle to get people's attentions. My friend at my side scrambled up from the ground where he had fallen, trying his best to follow my lead. Folks were muttering now, clearing out or looking ashamed of themselves. Like they _should..._

"This business doesn't concern you, Hunters!" the one who'd hit the Faunus - the ring leade,r judging by how the others crowded him just like Roman Torchwick's goons had - snarled back. "Go do something useful, and find some Grimm to show off to! We can handle this! Can't we, boys!?"

His 'boys' sounded off their agreement, and suddenly I got the impression I was looking at Cardin, not Torchwick.

Torchwick was different. He had... Oh, what had Ben called it? ' _Class?_ '

This was a bully, plain and simple. How had Joel stopped Cardin that day in the cafeteria when Velvet was in trouble? How would he handle this? How would Yang or Weiss?

 _'I wish you guys were here...'_

My sister and her boyfriend would already have these guys begging forgiveness under their boot heels without hesitation, and my partner...

The leader made to move on the Faunus crying silently to herself, but stopped at a silver-eyed glare, expression oozing with all the disappointment/threat I could manage from dim memories of Weiss. Knowing her, she'd cow them at a glance, and even my shoddy imitation left more than a few shrinking back.

Jaune took advantage, stepping forward arms raised. "Look fellas, let's all just calm down, alright? No need to take this any further, or hurt anybody..."

A good attempt. If only it had been good enough...

"Scarier things than you out here, kid. Scarier people by far."

He meant it, too. I could hear it in his tone. Most of those behind him sported the look of locals. Criminals, sure, but local ones. The kind of guys that Dad would've had a heart attack seeing me anywhere close ro. He seemed more... put together, and I knew now Jaune might've been right about the Red Hand sending people.

It was gonna turn bad. Fast. Jaune and I would be alright, definitely. I could've been alone, and that would've been the case. So why did I suddenly feel so nervous...?

"Scarier things, scarier people. How... _scaaaary_." Now it was the leader's turn to jump as a delicate gloved hand clapped across his back with a ringing * _smack*,_ surprising everyone, really. Jaune and I most of all, our eyes wide with unexpected recognition. "As threats go, though, it's not the best, but certainly far from the worst."

A dark-skinned figure in the same well-tailored traveling clothes we had seen her in months before stood behind the goons, dusting another ones shoulder off for him, much to his wide eyed consternation.

Worn black trousers and a dress shirt littered with what I mistook for colored embroidery, but was in actuality the patched remnants of past rips and wear, complete with a thick leather overcoat as patched as the rest, and of such a shade of red it kind of hurt to look at in the light. A broad-rimmed hat of similar make schooled raven ringlets strung liberally with beaded locks across her shoulders in a rattling waterfall.

All in all, she was dressed to make an impression, same as she had while outlined by fires and Griffons in Amity Colosseum. The Huntress who had come to aid the Professors while the students retreated, and a friend of Joel's... or so Ben had mentioned. I'd never seen the two together, though.

All I could remember was how nervous the bandit had looked, and how Maxine had spat on the ground angrily. She'd disappeared sometime after the battle, I'd heard. No one would talk about it, least of all Joel when I'd asked.

She was peering at us now from a single amber eye that glowed with mirth and malice in equal measure, as in literally glowing in the shade cast by the brim of her hat. Her other eye was closed by a bisecting scar that ran neatly down her cheek, and yet she somehow pulled off Weiss' patented ' _Ice Queen_ ' look in a way that not only put my feeble attempt to shame, but superseded even the original.

What was her name again? Flore...Flaye...?

"Fortuna Marigold?..." Jaune murmured helpfully, seemingly confused as I was when all the color drained from the ringleader's face as he recoiled from the Huntress, yet she wouldn't let him go far. She drew him in close as a crow awkwardly cawed from the rooftops, the sound almost as strangled as the yep the burly fellow made.

" _Finally!_ " she called out cheerfully, smiling a brilliantly white grin while simultaneously wrapping her arm the quivering man's torso, hugging him close, and resting her chin on his shoulder. His friends were as dumbstruck as he was, muttering nervously, though it was clear that unlike their leader, they had no idea who she was.

In fact, why _would_ he know?

"I've been looking everywhere for you kids!" The smile dipped slightly, something that shouldn't have scared me nearly as much as it did. "Hmm? Isn't there supposed to be more of you? I could've sworn..."

"You...! _You damn traitor!_ "

The ring leader burst into motion, hand going for the gun belted at his waist. The wrong move, as it turned out, said hand suddenly sporting a few fingers twisted out of sorts, with a gloved hand clapped across his mouth to muffle the pained cries before he could even register what had happened. I realized with a start that I could recognize the hold she was using to keep him upright and from squirming, having seen Joel practicing it with Yang on Beacon's sparring mats.

" _Tsk..._ Now, now, mind your manners, dear. Can't you see I'm not talking to you?" Marigold chided sternly, not even looking at the man.

His fellows, however, weren't willing to be ignored, advancing on, her only to be stopped in their tracks by one of the most curious things I'd ever seen... and I'm still not sure how she'd done it. One second, there was only a well beaten dirt path separating the lithe woman from six slabs of armed muscle, and then suddenly there was simply ice.

A half dozen spears of crystal sprang forth out of nowhere from the ground to form mere inches from each man's quivering jugular. More than one flinched back with curses, clutching fearfully at light cuts, and staring in open-mouthed awe and not a little bit of horror at the woman who stood as still as she pleased. The ice shattering into tiny flurries with a snap.

It had been Dust, I realized, the motes slowly drifting towards her voluminous sleeves. Drawn by some unseen will.

"In fact, all of you clear out. _Now,_ if you would?" It took maybe a second's silence before improvised weapons dropped from shivering fingers as their owners turned heel and ran. The crowd parted to let them pass, drawing the Huntress' notice as well. "When I said ' _ALL,_ ' I meant it." She didn't need to raise her voice, but the cold dip in temperature surrounding Marigold made it clear enough to those watching.

Fathers and mothers shepherded curious or crying children away swiftly, all going about their business... All far away from Fortuna, the street now utterly deserted but for us and a few panicked eyes peeking out from window panes.

Even the Faunus victim hadn't been spared, bounding away in a fright after trying to share some words of thanks, receiving only a glower and a wick of flame popping to life before her teary eyes for her trouble.

That left me frowning, but at the very least she was safe... I think.

"There, ain't that better?" she said jovially. Jaune and I nodding before we even knew what we were doing. "Good. I'm finding I'm getting more and more tired of crowds these days. Must be getting old, or something."

A pause passed, as though she expected us to laugh, my friend opening his mouth, but wisely shutting it a moment later.

 _"Mmmph...!"_

"Ah, right, how could I forget?" The Huntress brought her hand away from her prisoner's mouth, only to clutch at his jaw in a way that made my teeth ache just looking a it, the groans he let out sounding far from comfortable. "As for you, dear. You're going to forget this happened. You're going to forget these faces. You're going to run back to wherever you came from, and swear to whatever gods you pray to that some random Faunus roughed you up in the night. Three simple things." She brought up three fingers to stress the lesson. "Understand?"

" _Mmhmm..._ " He nodded emphatically, using what leverage she allowed him, though it seemed more like the action was being prompted by the woman, his thoughts having no sway in the matter.

"Excellent! Now run along."

In one fluid motion, she swung him around on his heels, and put a hand to his back, a blast of hot air rippling forth from the point of contact that set my cloak whipping in the air pressure, and sent the unlucky soul barreling head first through a sliding door with a _*CRASH,*_ much to the consternation of those hiding out inside.

"And remember, now, I'll know if you screw up!" Marigold called playfully at the barely-stirring lump sprawled in the door frame, glancing back at us now with that smile that now didn't seem quite so friendly. "Now then, lunch? I'm feeling lunch... Coming?"

Funnily enough, she actually made it sound like a choice.

 _'Ren and Nora might be waiting a while...'_

* * *

 _ **-Iris Brielle-**_

"Ah... This is just too weird..." Such was the only way I could describe the sounds drifting out from the hovel Virgil was using for this meeting, struggling to hear clearly over the light pitter-patter of rain.

The space was nothing special, barely more than four ramshackle walls of thin sheet, and maybe a few mildewed boards beneath cracked plaster and cloth hangings hung outside. A place he and the young blue-haired woman he was conversing with seemed to treat with a nostalgic reverence, faded graffiti on the walls making it clear this had been, at one point, some sort of gang hideaway.

For this district, it seemed that was nothing special, the entire area on edge in that way that spoke of danger and the like hidden around every corner. Classic Mistral...

The location I was eyeing was a strange place, currently filled by what might be the strangest snippets of sound I'd ever picked up with the ears the Red Hand had seen fit to gift me with.

Every decibel was picked up, analyzed, yet not understood, with my back against a wall across the street, and head turned to the side beneath the hood of my cloak. Heedless to those few souls passing along the avenue this time of night.

Most passed by with nary a glance, eager to mind their own business, and ignore the small if rather noticeable young woman doing quite the same. Those scoundrels who didn't and thought she might prove easy prey, they usually scarpered pretty quick after catching my second best glare from beneath the hood.

No use blowing the best material on chaff, after all.

Still, they didn't matter. This _did..._ And it was, well... _weird_.

 **" _Hahaha_! Surely you're joking!? You can't have, the whole lot of them...?"**

"Running down Central Market Town with their trousers flapping in the wind, yeah, along with a bit extra. Probably scarred a few innocents in the process, but had the Powder-Kegs steering clear of our turf for months after. By the time they came back, well..." Evidently there was some silent gesture involved, one that had that distorted guffaw ringing clear as day moments later. "No one was scared of them after that."

Laughter, clearly audible even through the telltale modulation of Virgil's helm. And not the usual calculated chuckle I was used to hearing from the blind swordsman, the gloating mania, or the maddened cackle I'd heard tales of in the mess halls during my training; what you'd expect from the man trusted to lead an outfit like the Trappers.

In fact, it didn't sound anything near close to what any Trapper should be producing, and certainly not this one. Honest, easy laughter. The sort one uses when among a trusted friend; when their guard is lowered.

This man who I'd seen rip through an Atlesian battle line as if it were some overly irritating training exercise, who had carved the pilot right out of a damned Paladin Assault Platform, was seemingly enjoying his opportunity to relax with this Ciane Skye.

...It seemed impossible.

 **"Months I looked for some opportunity to get back at those fools, and yet you...?"**

"...picked up a lot these last few years, though that little number might have been more luck than just..."

 **"Tell me. I want to hear everything."**

"...Fine, but only after you explain what happened. That Huntsman, that getup..."

Madness, the whole lot of it. That this glorified street rat thought she could get away with talking to Virgil Jett like that, calling him whatever this ' _Hei'_ nickname was supposed to be. If I or someone like Lancaster had thought to try something so informal...

I shuddered, trying not to dwell on that death sentence, and focus wholly on the holographic projector tugged snugly in my palm, the curved nodule of metal feeling almost heavy in my grasp which should've been impossible.

Of course, it was all in my head, knowing just whose words were contained within.

 **"...Another time, Skye. It's...a long story, and hardly a pleasant one,"** Virgil's voice spilled forth, his heartbeat calm as any Trapper's could be while the girl's he conversed with quickened perceptibly. She wasn't happy being snubbed, but she was accepting it. Interesting... **"Now, you'll do as I ask? I lack the connections to arrange a meeting, but if you..."**

"It's... This a bad idea, Hei. Y'know that, right? It's been a long time, and the Kage's changed a lot since you were last..."

Skye bit off whatever bleating advice she'd been about to utter, her clothes rustling about, I suspected, going by the fabric rustle of her own cloak, fluttering uncomfortably with a tap of her heels. Virgil was probably pulling his 'intimidate without actually trying to intimidate' tactic.

One I remembered all too well from those first days in training.

The power he held, it was the sort of strength I craved... But this girl was a weakness.

"Yeah, yeah, I can get you what you want, but you're sure you want to use a fake name like 'Virgil Jett?' And why that one? Sounds kinda silly..."

Now _that_ almost made me laugh. _Almost..._ No way in hell was I actually going to do something so stupid, but the temptation was there. _'Girl's got a pair, I'll give her that much.'_

Skilled too, as she said, the thief actually having made it inside the warehouse before Lancaster or I had picked up on her presence, nabbing the faked documents and such we'd left lying around. And to have avoided the Safeholders and Lancaster himself for so long, too, even if it all was something of a show, was also rather impressive.

 **"It's... had its uses, though it can be somewhat pretentious, I agree."**

"Just saying, I preferred the old one... Alright, then. I'll... I'll see you soon.

I watched as the entrance to the hideaway - not the front door, of course, but a concealed exit boarded along the side - shifted open.

Ciane slipped out into the dirt and muck of a side alley, her head rounding to exchange a few last minute quips with this ' _Hei'_ she seemed so fond of before vanishing into the night. Or what she at least considered vanishing, which wasn't bad per say. Just not enough to escape a Trapper's gaze... Nuh-uh.

I just hoped for her sake she'd actually prove up to the task of this little idea Virgil had cooked up. The risks involved... They were rather un-Virgil-like, but so it was.

 _'And of course, I don't have Blooming Whisper on me...'_

My fingers twitched, silently wishing for the sniper rifle's reassuring weight. The distance it offered, the cold separation from reality. I didn't like all this sneaking around... Well, okay, I did, so long as it led to something worthwhile.

All this mission seemed to be was waiting. Waiting for supplies to move, waiting for Virgil's contacts like this girl to dredge up something or anything remotely useful. Wait, wait, _wait..._ And even now...

Hovering in my place a few minutes longer, just to be certain the girl actually was gone like she seemed to be, I moved forward towards the place I'd seen the little thief vacate, and paused. Curiously, it actually took me a moment to pick out where the exit began and ended, wooden flak boards shifted about to seem like just another sordid repair job.

Whoever had set it up had known what they were doing, or at least knew enough that the casual observer wouldn't be able to pick it out at a glance. Great, more weird... Lovely.

 **"Are you awaiting some kind of invitation, Brielle?"**

Virgil's muffled voice from within, now entirely lacking in whatever vestiges of warmth it had contained earlier, was motivation enough to stop dilly-dallying. Pushing past the detritus to the carefully concealed door, I slid it open, and stepped into what was perhaps a textbook example of a rat's nest without the rats.

Or at least not from what I could see, anyway. They'd certainly frequented the hovel, given the smell.

Mildew-spotted blankets littering the dirt floors, broken pieces of furniture scattered about, and cracked walls spotted with signs similar to those adorning the outside all glowered back at me. Virgil sat in the middle of it all before a guttering Dust lamp. Straightbacked with legs crossed, he looked more a statue, barely even breathing.

Being used to the bare threat of his armor, seeing him in standard street clothes - if one considered a thick hooded black jacket and enough layers to conceal the wreck of a body beneath 'normal' - was still a novel experience, and one I was certain I'd never get used to.

He should have looked awkward, bundled up like that, but as he beckoned me forward with a thickly gloved hand, it was still easy to see the subtle inhuman gracefulness to his motions hidden beneath the getup, if only because I knew them so well. It was a disguise; something to mask the wrongness from others. From his friend... But why he even bothered...

 **"I lived here, once."**

I blinked, not quite sure how to respond, or if I was even supposed to. Virgil didn't care one way or the other as he picked up an old spray can, his head twitching almost forlornly before tossing it into piles of similar junk set about the corners with a sharp clamor.

 **"Years ago now, this was mine. Or it would've been, had things not gone as they had... Strange, isn't it? Skye apparently still comes here. It helps her find perspective, or so she claims. It appears she thought it would be nice to show me, and elicit a similar reaction... She wasn't wrong. Truthfully."**

 _'Strike what I meant before. This is really, **REALLY** godsdamned weird,' _I thought, taken aback by the wistful undercurrents in the filtered vocalization.

A note of tenderness I'd never heard before was buried under the harsh filter that made my ears want to bleed. "Virgil, erm... _Sir..._ She has kind of a point. I mean, everyone needs a little...!?"

 **"I asked not to be disturbed, did I not?"** My attempt at conversation died in a startled squeak, instinct leaving me wishing to lash out, training and experience shutting me right up, and killing the notion before I could do or say anything stupid. **"You have a good reason, I hope?"**

No small talk, then. Right to the point. That's far more like it. What I was used to.

Standing up straight, I tossed the holo-projector his way, a gloved hand snatching it deftly from the air without even turning to look... which I suppose made sense. It's not like Virgil needed to. It was disconcerting as hell even so... I'd only been able to track him part ways.

"Word from the Commande... er... the _Cahal..._ Uh..." Damn that stupid Frontier speak. I could never get it right. Etho was always... And great, now I would be dwelling, all pissed off at that blasted traitor again. Lovely... Now I _really_ wanted my rifle. "It's from Violette, sir. Word from Bastion. Shrike touched down an hour ago with more gear. Seems he's recorded this special message, your eyes... erm, _ears_ only. I mean... Sorry. I didn't mean..."

I bit my lip, forcing down a frustrated scowl back behind level tones. _''Sorry...' ' **SORRY!?** ''_

Master Kasai had been right when he took me on for training/ I really just needed to learn when to keep my big mouth...!

 **"Excellent. Coordinate the details with Lancaster along the channels specified, specific routes for every piece. I want the new material in place and secured before commencing with the next phase,"** Virgil, staring down at the projector with the blank-faced ceramic mask concealing his features, barked. The visage he bore was so similar to what he normally utilized, though less sturdy, and lacked the red hand print that marked him out as one of us.

Evidently, he didn't quite trust his new/old friend with that little tidbit just yet... That'd be a bit of a given, seeing the friends she kept...

 **"Usual procedure. Pay off, or get rid of any impediments to expedience. Ciane promised that the Kage's interests could be diverted, but she'd hardly be the only shadow they'd keep. Though given what I've heard, both should have little trouble."**

"Understood. Lancaster'll be thrilled. Been raring to go all out against something properly since we got here. Says he feels like he's back in the cells. He's been trying to teach the savages... the _Safeholders_ how to use a Scroll."

I rubbed a hand at my arm, well aware of a sudden chill wracking the interior, the lantern flickering casting strange shadows about the space. It had certainly been lived in, once, by more than a few souls. Were those kid's toys...?

"Virgil, he's got a point. We're fighters - _Trappers_ \- not smugglers, or whatever this is. What are doing all the way out here? I mean, I've got an idea, but just how do you expect to pull...?"

 **"We're** **making a statement. And for that, we need time, care, and preparation. Ciane is the first step, and the next... Well, the first step is perhaps the most important.** **"**

My heart skipped a beat, suddenly very aware of the fact that I was witness to something I shouldn't be; trespassing in a place I didn't belong. Virgil's patience was thinning.

He... He _hated_ this place...

 **"What we're doing here will stand as a turning point in this little conflict. It could change _everything._ And if all goes as planned, and the pieces fall into place... the Kingdoms themselves may be left quaking at my feet."**

"...A-and the Commander's?"

I shouldn't have said it. I _really_ shouldn't have, but it just slipped out. For the briefest instant I saw the Huntsman twitch, and then my life was flashing before my eyes. I couldn't breathe, couldn't...!

 **"...Yes, of course... My mistake."** I let out a gasping sigh, only my will and a nerve I didn't quite know I possessed keeping me on my feet, facing this man. I realized deep down what I was doing, and what I'd just heard and perhaps witnessed.

This was _big._ Bigger than anything I'd ever thought possible when I signed up a lifetime ago. When I'd first seen Virgil standing before us all, with Bird Brain by my side.

Still, all this talk of bringing the Kingdoms to their knees... As much as I knew of his plans, for all his pretty speeches, I still couldn't quite believe it. But if anyone could challenge...

" **Now, is that all?"**

I didn't need to be prompted twice, practically running in my haste to vacate the space, managing to get clear of the concealed hatch, and close it behind me before slumping against the alley wall. I felt the chill of the rain being beaten back by the sheer manic thumping in my chest, blood and adrenaline coursing through me. I felt... Well, it certainly wasn't normal, but usually I wasn't opposed to this sort of feeling.

It was like I'd just stumbled my way out of a fight, or... No, no, this was nothing to be excited about.

I'd caught a glimpse at the man beneath the mask back there - figuratively, at least - and it scared me. I was _scared..._ That was it. It'd been so long, I'd somehow forgotten...

 _-"...excavations beneath Aegis Fortress are well un...way. The discovery of hidden caverns connected to the site... likely established for the purposes you described... accelerated our projections significantly. Their existence alone purports that perhaps this insanity might just hold... Still, I hold reservations..."-_

My muscles locked, stiff and tight in the face of the voice I hadn't heard since that day in the Frontier's woods, staring down _Blooming Whisper's_ barrel at Etho... The day I failed to be a Trapper, and got consigned to all this.

Lucas Violette... Of course, the recorded message would be audio. Of course it would be. It was low, and I could only pick up brief snippets of detail over the rain and my own thudding heartbeat, my battle-readied senses the only reason I likely heard even this much.

I didn't want to. I shouldn't... but he sounded serious; almost tense. I'd never known the Commander could sound like that. He almost seemed anxious...

 _-"...have studied the contents of the testament... more a confession, and though I... taking great risk in trusting so blindly the words of a dead man, whomever they were. There are those talking, inklings of resistance..."-_

I closed my eyes, drawing in a few deep steadying breaths, drifting back along the mental tricks and habits beaten into me during training. Slowly - _too_ slowly - the racing tempo in my chest began to ease, my muscles relaxed, and the Commander's voice became fainter and fainter...

 _-"...transporting the cargo... only two to test this 'Heart'... cannot fail to obtain... all hinges... Ambrose..."-_

And then it was gone, and I was moving again, leaping to the rooftops, and sprinting back towards the mission. Towards what was important. What I'd been trained and now swore to accomplish.

I was waiting. We all were... But from the sounds of things, we wouldn't be for much longer...

"Now, then..."

* * *

 _ **-Ruby Rose-**_

"...just let me try and get this sorted, so we're clear on this."

The Huntress leaned back in her chair, staring at us from across the chipped tabletop with that glowing amber eye of hers in a way that reminded me of Professor Goodwitch. Jaune apparently agreed with me, his gaze drifting about the bar's dimly lit interior, the entire room on edge. All of it was stemming from the woman sitting before us.

For my part, I just nursed a glass of milk and fidgeted uncomfortably under the fresh attention.

" _Ugh_... Do we have to?"

"Yes. Yes we do, Rose. You actually thought walking from one side of Remnant to the other, as in on foot in the middle of all this mess, was only gonna take you kids _two weeks?_ "

"Yeah!... Well, maybe?... I-I don't know! I've never been this far from Patch Island! Everything seemed smaller back there! No one was fighting!"

True enough, we hadn't heard about the troubles Mistral was facing until we'd stepped foot onto the docks. Even then it was just a few rumors here and there. Stories of Grimm spreading like wildfire, issues with places outside the Kingdoms. All things that could and had been chalked up to Vale, at least in our minds.

Who expected a war? Certainly not us. Not when people should have been working together, now more than ever before.

"But... Um, it sure does sound pretty silly when you say it like that."

"Airships weren't really making flights out of Vale for kids when we left, and none of us really had a whole lot in the way of Lien starting out even if they were," Jaune interjected, drawing her attention, and giving me room to breathe. Even so, he still looked sheepish; tiny by comparison. Weird... "It took most of what we did have just to get tickets for the boat over. Then there was food costs, and the extra supplies, among other things."

Other things like helping out the less fortunate: people displaced by Grimm attacks...

"It was Ruby's idea to do some hunting on the side for a few of the villages out here, make ends meet. Help... Help people out where we can."

He lowered his eyes back to the table and grabbed for his water, gulping it down in one go. He was still embarrassed about his attitude with the Faunus earlier, even if I told him I understood.

"Right... Don't get me wrong, sweetlings, I'm all for the show of initiative. Took plenty of guts to make it this far, I bet."

We both sat up a bit with pride at that. A Huntress' praise...!

"Only maybe next time, wait a little bit longer, and leave during the spring thaw rather than in the dead of winter?... Y'know, 'cause of the whole ' _dead_ ' thing? Makes travel a bit of a pain, even for those ready for it."

And like that it was gone...

"We've managed alright on our own!"

"Of course you did..." She nodded coyly, her eye darting towards a flash of sudden movement at the window sill, where a crow stood perched and preening. She dismissed it with a shrug, looking back at us with a broad white smile. "I'm just glad I showed up when I did. Joel never would've let me hear the end of it if you kids managed to get yourselves into trouble, and I just stood by. Not that I wasn't tempted, mind you. Would've made for quite the good show, I expect."

" _Joel!?_ So you've seen him!?" I shot forward across the table, probably drawing just about every eye in the bar, and almost bumping Jaune clear out of his seat in my haste. I didn't really focus on all that, though, hungry for news - any news - as to my lost...! Actually I wasn't sure what to call him. Definitely a friend. Sister's boyfriend? Leadership example...? "I-is he alright!? Is he close by!? Can we see him?! What's he doing now!? Where...!?"

Marigold brought a hand up to stop me, eye wide with surprise, and more than a little mirth as she looked me over approvingly. "Easy, now, easy! _Breathe..._ " I did so, sucking down a lungful of air, and holding it until she nodded, slumping back in my seat with reddened cheeks. "Good girl. Joel's just fine, and in a safe place... Or at least he _was_ a few weeks back when I last saw him." A frown creased her brow, the effect not very comforting. "Knowing him, he's probably gotten himself into some kind of trouble, though I wouldn't worry yourselves. He's a big boy. He can take care of himself. Tries to write when he can."

"We, uh... wouldn't know," Jaune said, shifting in his seat. "It's been a while since we stopped too long in any one place."

"Which, given the state of things these days, is a rather smart attitude to have, sad as it may be," Marigold nodded sagely, flashing the blonde a friendly wink.

 _...Was_ it a wink? How did someone wink with only one eye!?

"The Red Hand won't take kindly to Huntsmen on their turf, even kids like you. Best take a page from my book and avoid them. Spare yourselves any awkwardness."

"But you were one of them, weren't you?" I chimed in before I could stop myself, the pieces falling into place. An old friend of Joel's? If she wasn't from the Frontier, that could only mean... "One of the Red Hand, I mean?"

If I could've taken the question back, I would have, that single amber eye fixing me with a fiery glare that would have given Professor Goodwitch a run for her money, if it didn't send her running first. Chills ran down my spine, the temperature in the room feeling as if it had nose-dived several degrees. "I-I, um... I-I-I didn't mean...!"

"Listen, I'm getting really, _really_ tired of having to explain the whole concept of the word ' _former_ ' to kids these days," she said slowly and clearly, enunciating every word as though to make sure she got the message across. It was actually sort of demeaning. Then I remembered she could probably burn this whole building to the ground if she'd wanted to... "Look, let's just say we compare my story to Joel, eh? You two trust my boy, don't you?"

We both nodded, Jaune hesitating a moment behind my own, his face conflicted.

"Good! Then by in large, you can trust me. Or at least listen when I say you and your partners should get as far away from this village as physically possible if you don't want to a run in with some _non_ -former Red Hand types. The nasty kind." She tapped a finger on the hardwood surface of the table, leaving a tiny scorch mark in her wake. One that grew as she traced a caricature of an open hand print. "They might prove a bit more troublesome than our town bigots, if you catch my meaning. I give 'em a day or two before they swarm the place and drive out any... undesirables. Won't be fun."

"How could you know that!?" It was Jaune's turn to interject now, standing up so fast his chair rocked behind him with a clatter. "I mean, you just said you're not one of them!"

"Doesn't stop me from keeping tabs on them, now does it?" It was weird just how many comparisons Ruby could draw about the woman sitting before her. Harsh like Professor Goodwitch in some ways, but as boisterous as Professor Port the next, all with a little bit of Uncle Qrow's dour blase attitude to boot. "Just about every occupied settlement from here to the coast has gone dark, and not all of them because of the CCT or Grimm. This Kingdom's bleeding... And the blade's coming this way."

"Then we should stay! Maybe try to help!"

"Like you helped that sorry mouse girl earlier?" Jaune blanched at the underhanded jab, falling back in his seat with his fists clenched. "Handsome, I know it doesn't feel like it, but in my book, you made the smart call. Stop one batch here, and all you're doing is painting a target to draw the rest of them." She carried on, kicking the bottom of the Jaune's seat hard enough to make him yelp in surprise. Weird... From my perspective she'd only tapped it...

"I know how the Hand works, and I know just enough from Joel about these Frontier types to know I don't know what they're capable of. Better to be cautious than dead, I always say. Or in your case, better to run now, rather than get stuck here. You've got places to be, and all."

"But still...?" Jaune trailed off, unwilling or unable to meet her stare.

" _Pick_ your battles. More importantly, pick the ones you actually stand a chance of _winning,_ " Marigold chided, rolling a curled ringlet of loose dark hair between her finger tips. "It's an important lesson. A real shame my students never picked up on it. Be better, won't you?"

Jaune still didn't look too thrilled, and neither was I, to be perfectly honest, even if what the woman said did make a sad kind of sense. Team RNJR -the name was still in debate - had to get to Haven and stop Cinder before she got whatever it was she wanted, whatever that was. The fighting with the Frontier was bad - terrible, even - and would have who knew how many consequences in the future.

Cinder's plans, however, had already toppled Beacon into ruin, crippled Vale to the point of collapse, and stolen away far too many precious friends... _She_ took priority. But even so...

"...Joel didn't really send you, did he?" Jaune turned to look at me nonplussed, opening his mouth to speak before closing it, hand now very much on the hilt of _Crocaea Mors._ "Not to be rude or anything, but knowing him, I don't think he'd want someone like you anywhere near us."

My cheeks reddened, very much aware of just how rude the words had wound up being. Why did things always have to sound better in her head!?

"Um... S-sorry, I didn't mean...!"

"Clever girl." Rather than toast me like Weiss' cooking, or turn me into a popsicle, Marigold smiled. That had to be a good thing, right? "No, he did not. Pretty sure he'd go ballistic if he caught wind I was within a Kingdom of his new girl's cute little sissie. Unwarranted, of course, but he wouldn't be too thrilled. Apparently, I'm a 'bad influence.'"

Okay, definitely not a good thing, then. "Then why, if... if you don't mind me asking?"

Marigold cocked her head back, glancing off at nothing, actually seeming to carefully consider the question. It was so similar to Joel's usual manner, or how I remembered it, that I almost laughed. I didn't, of course. I had to be serious, at the very least for Jaune's sake.

"Mmm... Way I see it, you and your friends did a service for one of mine, y'know?" She waggled a finger between Jaune and I, lingering longer in my direction with another one of those 'maybe winks.' "So in my book, that means everybody get's one. A ' _freebie,_ ' if you will. No need to thank me all at once. My generosity knows few bounds."

"A... A ' _freebie?_ '"

"That's right! My time's expensive, after all. A girl's gotta know how to value herself accordingly in my line of work." She said it so casually, as though there were no simpler thing in all the world. "A favor for a favor. Trust me, you two wouldn't be able to afford me otherwise."

"But aren't Huntresses usually paid on commission, or something?" Jaune said scratching at his forehead, sword forgotten in his confusion.

" _Pfft!..._ Handsome, when did I ever say I was a Huntress?" the older woman snorted in a not 'older woman' way. "Actually, that's pretty rich... which going by the whole tall, blonde, and scraggly thing, you're evidently not."

"Look, I-I just assumed...!"

" _Yeeeeeah,_ don't do that. You'll wind up happier, with less people mad at you that way, trust me on that one," she said with a snide grin, clapping her hands together with a _*CRACK*_ like a thunder strike before shrugging. "Don't get me wrong, I'm flattered. Just not that selfless."

"Then... maybe you can help get us to Haven?" The woman's brow rose high, genuinely surprised for the first time that didn't make me feel like Jaune and I had screwed up. It was a bit unnerving, but I was committed now. What was it Weiss used to say about ' _sallying forth?_ ' "I-I mean, you just said we each get one favor, right? Warning us about the Red Hand can be Jaune's, and going with us to Haven...!"

"Nope. Not a chance, Sweetie." Silver eyes blinked wide, mouth working for a few moments as I tried to process the blatant denial, failed, then tried again. "Nice try, though."

"B-but you said...!" I was getting irritated, feeling that flicker of anger that Yang had always said was buried deep down inside. The feelings that had come to a head after Pyrrha and Penny... after Cinder... "Why not!?"

"First off, that's a serious time commitment where I'm stuck babysitting a bunch of snot-nosed kids playing Huntsmen across hostile countryside to a place I don't really much wanna go." She shrugged with an air of disinterest that sincerely made me wonder how Joel had put up with her as a... friend? Master? What was the relationship between my sister's boyfriend and this woman? Wait, said woman was still talking... "Second, I've got business to handle, some of which involves likely backing up people you probably care about. Hogging me to yourself is just selfish!"

"Hey! Don't talk to her like that!" Jaune made to move. How, I couldn't quite be sure, seeing as he was next to me one moment, and rolling back behind me in a heap of thrashing limbs the next. Unharmed, thankfully, but left dazed and a bit out of sorts from the sudden dislocation.

"Third - and most important - your favor's already spent, Rose." I gaped, ready to voice a denial when she beat me to it. Fortuna Marigold liked controlling the conversation, it seemed. "After all, I didn't snatch your pretty little self up for the bounties, now did I? Though it might've proven quite the chase."

...Wait. A bounty!? There was a bounty on me!?

...Dad. It had to be. Of _course_ he'd be worried about me, running off out of nowhere with only a note left behind to try and smooth things over. I explained my reasons, but knowing Taiyang Xiao-Long, the chances of him being fine with his teenage daughter running off to another Kingdom without any means to get into contact without exhausting every attempt to drag her back was simply...

No, even so that didn't sound right...and then there was the...

...Wait a second!

"Bounties _!?_ " I blurted wildly, suddenly very much aware of the distinctive red cloak and totally awesome scythe-sniper rifle combo hanging off my waist, and silver bullets. New clothes and a few month's growth wouldn't hide those. "There's more than one?"

"You kidding? You're practically famous in some circles, especially these days. Speaking of which, _smile!_ "

Before I knew what was happening, a Scroll was in the madwoman's hand, the telltale snap of a camera and a flash of brilliant light catching me completely off guard.

"Meh. Not perfect, but it'll have to do. Might be good for when I run into Joel again, boy's a bit of a worrywart. So serious, a pity." With a perfunctory glance and a flick of her wrist, the Scroll vanished back up her sleeve as though it had never been. "And yes, there's more than a few. Distilled through different channels, but they all come down to the same sources. For one, the Red Hand's looking for you, or more specifically one Lucas Violette... Their leader, Joel's uncle, and all around sick, petty bastard," she clarified with an unhelpful aside, ignoring Jaune's and my splutter. "He wants to get at my boy through you, or thinks his nephew tagged along on this little getaway of yours. Big reason why I'm so keen to see you on your way, and out of theirs. As for the other one... It's clever, but follow enough trails, and all the dirt seems to land on..."

" _Cinder._ "

The name passed my lips almost like a curse; the first time any of us had uttered it for months. And like a curse, the spell it cast brought everything rushing back. Ben Carson on his knees, bloodied and broken, cradling the ashes of what had once been the Invincible Champion of Beacon. And standing over him, laughing with undisguised glee...

"Exactly. Points to the Silver-Eyed Warrior."

Marigold stood up with a swish of beaded hair, wiping specks of imagined grime from her riotous coat. She tipped her hat to Jaune, and for the briefest instant, looked as though she were about to rest a hand on my shoulder, but thought better of it at the last moment, and settled for a respectful nod.

"My advice, little Rose. Watch your backs. Someone's bound to come calling eventually. Best to be ready when they do. Turn the Hunter into the Hunted."

"So... So that's it, then?" Jaune picked himself off the floor and stood unsteadily, scraping off a few less than imaginary spritzes of permafrost from his chest piece. "You're leaving? Just like that?"

"Of course! Favors for a favor. I gave you fair warning where you had none before. That makes us all even in my book." She strode purposefully to the door, peeking out the threshold towards something evidently perched along the rooftops. I tried to follow her eyes out the window, and caught sight of nothing more than a few black feathers drifting lazily to the ground. "I mean, it's not like I thought to have a driver posted just south outside of town, with express orders to scramble to the town a week away on foot. Or stuffed enough supplies and Dust to keep a small hunting party well off for at least a few more weeks if they ration properly. No, of course I didn't. That'd be silly! My reputation wouldn't stand for it."

"Huh? W-wait a sec... I'm confused." Jaune and I looked to one another, the older boy shrugging his slim shoulders. "Are you... actually still helping us, or...?"

We glanced back only to find the threshold deserted, sliding door slightly ajar, allowing light to pour in, and reflect off the shimmering surface of a card embedded in the wood of the bar counter.

"Well..." I said to Jaune, unable to look away from the grinning amber fox embossed across the card's surface, almost seeming to move in the fading sunlight. "...That was... certainly a thing."

* * *

 **\- END**

* * *

 **A/N: Happy New Year everybody, glad to be back! Took a bit of a break for the Holidays to get things sorted, enjoy some time off. Thought it'd be good to look in on some side plots and let everyone know RNJR is still alive and getting a bit of help here and there. Marigold's a busy woman but she cares...somewhat. Expect to see her flitting around.**

 **In other news, I've actually started rewriting that lost chapter from before. The one with Natalie and SAND that got deleted during some editing, and has been nagging at me since it happened. Righting dumb mistakes and all.**

 **Anyway, I'm doing my best to bring back something similar. Some of you will probably remember most of what happens though it likely won't be the exact same (Been so long even I'm having trouble), but I'm** **thinking of amping up the action and adding a helpful look in from Sonia's perspective.**

 **Should be up in the next few days before I move that to its proper place. (* _Knocks on wood*_ )**

 **Hope y'all enjoyed. And as always feel free to drop a review or PM me with any questions. - Mojo**

* * *

 _ **(Next Chapter: The Rock Star's crew goes to the Opera,)**_


	27. Chapter 27

_**Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_.

* * *

A PRELUDE

* * *

 _ **-Benjamin Carson-**_

Now, if I had to say one thing in Atlas' defense - and it was a very, _very tiiiiiny_ thing, mind you - it would be that the smug, clockwork bastards at least knew how to throw a fancy get-together.

"And here I grew up in a rusted wagon with jury-rigged cooling and a broken suspension..." I muttered darkly, easing back in the plush seating as I glanced about the vast concert hall in all its splendor, or what I could make out of it, anyway. "Sure do get a kick showin' it all off, don't they?"

The whole place was of the same sleek, utilitarian design as the rest of the Northern Kingdom: all function and little form. At least until the lights began to dim in preparation of the performances to come, and lines of pulsing blue strobes outlined the shape of the cavernous space to build a state of well-ordered technological grandeur.

As though some immense machine was stirring itself to proper wakefulness, a gentle whirring energy thrummed about the hundreds of debutantes and elites all grouped together within its depths, providing a perfectly stable atmosphere compared to the gale force blizzard I knew for a fact to be raging just outside. Information gleaned from the ongoing mutterings played off in my ear, courtesy of the comm-bead, sentries providing steady reports to Hemlock and, by extension, myself.

Security for the event was at an all time high, given the guest list and recent events. Execs and politicians, diplomats and debutantes...

 _'And they ask me to handle them all. How **generous...** 'Least I get dibs on front row seats.'_

And I didn't have to share a box seat with the Ice King and his little minion of a son, either. Bonus.

Winter had offered me a place by her side up in one of the booths furthest from the white mustachioed devil, though I'd refused, citing that I wanted to be close so as to catch the show in all its glory. Not entirely true, but it served well enough as an excuse, and would see me out to the party faster. All that fancy food and lovely catering...

 _'If only we weren't here on official business. I could've made a killin' just shillin' pockets and swipin' cutlery...'_

This place wasn't like Mistral and their delicate artworks, Atlas being a place of scientific power and order for all to see. The message clear: "We have the power to bring even Remnant itself to heel. This is our strength." Effective, if crudely done.

"Oh, it's nothing so grand. I mean, it's... Um, well." My aide frowned, raising his eyes from that ever present tablet he seemed to carry with him everywhere now. An apologetic smile on his face, "It can be a little much at times, I agree, but it _is_ a party, after all. I'm sure the Badlands have their own version of this, right?"

"Ain't nothin' back home to even come _close_ to this, far as I know, 'cept maybe the hub in Spire Point, I suppose." Cherry breathed, much more apparent in her own open-mouthed amazement at our surroundings than I was without all the cynicism that went into it. Well, for the most part. I could still see her nervously fidgeting with the skirt of the dress she'd opted to wear for the evening as though we were right on the verge of being kicked out. "Bet you could fit a whole township in here, and still have space to spare. Gods."

"Acoustics aren't too bad, either," Jasper added, leaning back in his own uniform, the stark white devoid of anything but a green badge displaying his, er... 'credentials.' Gibberish to anyone not in the know, but clear as the collar still snug about his neck to those who did. His eyes were closed, and his head cocked to the side in that way I'd long since come to learn meant the Trapper was scanning the area with those freakish ears of his. A common shared habit they developed in training, or so he'd explained. "Could do with some better company, though, that's for sure. Yeesh."

From the way he looked, I could tell he was listening in on a few of the conversations taking place in the rows behind us. Couples whispering conspiratorially, or decrying their opinions blatantly. This was supposed to be a night about helping Vale recover. Lo and behold, I'd have been surprised if even half these toadies even realized the Kingdom had even fallen, let alone required their aid.

"They've got money, right?" I sighed, rubbing my temples, eager to massage away the headache and eternal hum caused by the stud implants. "They look important?"

"Sure do."

"Then they're worth their weight in Lien with donations already. Now all we've got to do is play up the auction, and it'll all be worth it." I glanced over to Garrett's screen, where a live remote pre-auction was already well underway, over a dozen choice art pieces being fought over by the early raptors before the worms got to crawl in and take their fill. "Goin' well on that front, I take it?... Bid an extra two thousand on _Vale's Summer Dream._ She's laggin' behind. Build a bit of contention."

"Build contention. On it, sir." The Atlesian rattled off a perfect sitting salute, resuming the activity with perhaps a little regret at manipulating the charity of his countrymen.

" _Boss._ "

Of course, he'd soon come to realize a lot of events like this, auctions and the like, were the perfect way for the big wigs to flash their Lien, and show off their airs to their fellows. So why not salt a bit of blood into the air, and let the Razorbacks take care of themselves? It was all going to a good cause, after all.

"There she goes. We've got... Whoa, that's a... Th-that's a lot of zeros. Wait, now it's... Wow!" Now he was looking a bit green around the gills, gulping at the sheer amount of Lien he had pulsing across his screen. "How did you...?"

"If you want somethin', always a guarantee someone's gonna want it more," I mused with a cheeriness I didn't quite feel, tapping a metal digit on the screen to seed another bid elsewhere, my personal finances well in hand to provide a bit of incentive to those looking to sit back on their hands and wallets. "Might as well do our small part to help folks in Vale best we can, don'tcha think? Least we can do."

"Right! Right, si... er, Boss!" I grinned at the dutiful reaction, bumping his shoulder before settling back in my seat to get comfortable for the long night ahead. "Um, let's see... The show's about to start any second now. Minor delays."

Ooh, Ironwood wasn't going to be happy with that, but artists would be artists. Max had taught me that much. Talent bred eccentricity...

"Message from Specialist Schnee, as well, Boss. She expects you for a meeting after the concert to attend to some foreign guests."

"And I'm just learnin' about this _now?_ " I raised an eyebrow, my aide having enough good sense to look sheepish. I couldn't blame him overmuch. The setup for this whole event had been running everybody ragged. Some things were just bound to slip through the cracks. "Who is it? Some Valean, or...? No, y'know what? Save it for after the show. Focus on the auction."

"On it! On it, Boss!" The other man nodded with an echoing refrain true to his namesake, returning his gaze back to the tablet, and typing away before looking up again seemingly embarrassed. "So... Miss Schnee is really going to sing, Boss?

"Sure do hope so. Be a shame if she went and made a liar of me after all the advertisin' I had to sit through," I grumbled, taken somewhat aback by the delighted squeal from Cherry. Apparently, it caught Echo off guard as well, or it might've been the arms tugging him in close for a tight embrace despite the wide seats. Yeah, probably that. He'd been the one to score an extra ticket for the mech pilot, after all, and I wasn't about to deny the pair a bit of fun on a night like this... so long as he found the time to do his job, of course. "Didn't fancy you as a fan, Rouge."

From the look she gave me, I sincerely wondered if I hadn't gone and sprouted an extra head. "Are you serious!? Weiss Schnee hasn't had a public performance in _months! Longer,_ even! Not since before she went to Beacon! This is huge!"

Was it? Might explain the paparazzi vultures swarming the place, then.

"Gosh, Ben, seriously! No appreciation for the arts. Didn't your broken down band have a radio, or anythin'?"

"Y'all know we did. We just preferred the 'classics.' It's history."

"It's Grimm shit, as you well know. Listening to it ironically doesn't make it any better." My fellow Badlander sighed, playing with a cherry crimson ringlet hanging by her cheek. "Datin' a prodigy, Ben. Yer a lucky man."

'Lucky...' Yeah, that was a word. Ha...

Really, was Weiss' music really that good? I'd only ever heard recordings marred by the process, and never really connected the swelling lyrics with the stubborn Ice Princess of Team RWBY. Joel would've known... Maybe Rosie or the others on her team, as well, but...

"Starting." Fullmark cocked his head to the side, and sure enough, a few seconds later the grinding hum of generators began to fall away, as did the lights. Within seconds I could barely see my own hands in front of me but for the soft blue lights now guiding the hall's attentions towards the stage now bringing itself to blinding illumination from a dozen separate angles, towards... "...Ooh, that is interesting."

...Wait a sec?

I frowned at the sight of Jacob Ambrose seated in a high-backed chair, mindlessly tuning his instrument, his disheveled appearance despite the attempt at dressing up drawing more than a few mutters, though that might just have been the fact he was surrounded on either side by at least a half dozen sleek robotic silhouettes.

Modified AK units, older models that would have had to have been hauled from the scrap yards and restored to full function, and probably had been, knowing the Frontiersmen. He enjoyed a challenge. Each one was stripped of built-in weaponry and armor, their spindly fingers wrapped instead around the bow and strings of their own massive instrument.

A cello. They all bore cellos... The broad-stringed instruments were plated in metal and the like but for the seated professor's, whose was a thing of carved wood and intricate sigils of whirling paints and silver filigree.

Utilitarian Atlesian design, and good old-fashioned Frontier savagery mixed as one. The blunt comparison wasn't lost on me, even if it had the debutantes in the crowd nattering excitedly in anticipation of the event. More than a few whispers of _'Trapper's brother'_ and _'Frontier mongrel'_ interspersed in between.

And Ambrose lorded above it all with an ignorance that could've broken the blizzard itself, weathering the mixed reception with his usual leveled manner.

"Hmph? I thought this was the Princess' show?"

"Yer kiddin', right!?" Strangely enough, even if all could see was a flash of dull red ringlets in the dark, I could still feel that disapproving disbelieving glower. It was a gift my countrywoman had. Poor Echo oughta watch his back. "Can't expect them to blow the main event at the start, did ya? Folks need a bit of build up." She let loose a hum of wonder. "I heard an Ambrose might play, but I didn't quite believe..."

"And that's a big deal 'cause...?" Again the huff, the expression now more than a little irritating, truth be told. "Here's a grand idea. Pretend I was a bandit who spent most of his formative years livin' on the fringe edges of society without much in the way of global culture. Work from there, Rouge. Work from there."

"Cheeky little...!" An elbow lashed out to catch my arm, or tried to, hitting nothing but air in the darkness, much to my teasing pleasure. Better yet, I was spared a second attempt by the disapproving * _shh_ * from behind, guests irritated by our antics. "The name Ambrose is huge, and er... not just 'cause of the... y'know, Trapper bits." Fullmark shuffled in the seat beside me, chuckling under his breath. "Anyway, Kenneth Ambrose was a bleedin' legend at the piano and string. Him bein' drawn from the heights of the mysterious Frontier itself only made him, er... 'exotic.' So much so, half his compositions are still seein' air time despite the... well, y'know, war and all. If anythin', it's only grown in infamy 'cause of it. People love that sorta drama. And this here's his grandson. This is..." Rather than words, something more akin to a squealing giggle sounded, drawing more shushing attempts.

"Seriously, since when were you such a classical buff?" I jabbed, genuinely surprised. Cherry Rouge, closet musical snob. "Never bothered mentionin' it to me."

"I did. You just had your mind and your hands elsewhere, if I remember right." Echo choked on spittle, almost toppling out of his seat and fumbling with the tablet in his hands as Cherry moved to console him. Meanwhile, I just turned my attentions back on the youngest Ambrose with renewed interest.

I'd known Specs was a genius. Everyone did, and my renewed mobility was testament to that fact. But he was some kind of musical prodigy as well?

From months of living with his older brother, enduring early mornings with little else but his attempts at shower song to wake me, I could comfortably say that a sense of tune hadn't spread to that part of the tree. I mean, there had to be a limit to talent, right?

And then Ambrose started to play, straight backed and utterly focused in his seat, a calm tune that rang through the hall in a deep, lulling melody that was swiftly taken up by the robotic choir in perfect synchronicity guided by the professor.

It was... 'classy.' That at least that was the best term I could come up with to describe it in my limited, backwater vocabulary. Slow, measured... Calm.

A building pressure if I ever heard one, speaking of a calm, regimented life in small confines.

Simple, expected... Like a story's prologue playing out through the tunes. Like a life in a backwater patch of the world, free and disconnected from the turmoil of the outside.

I'd always heard the best music could tell a tale in its notes, as well as any round a campfire, though given my musical experience was limited mostly to garbled CCT radio garbage, jaunty bites sung amidst the gang, or this clubbing garbage the Kingdom's were leaning towards, well... _this_ was different. And then then the tone began to swell, as I'd expected it might if I was correct about which story our boy wanted to share.

And if I was, it might just explain the grin building on my face, right before the song slowly stole it away in an underlying tone of unease.

Chaos and turmoil built in a rapid increase in tempo, the calm slow cadence giving way to a pace that drew more than one soul to the edges of their seats as hearts began to race in expectation. Fullmark was practically vibrating in his plush chair, muttering low to himself, no doubt picking up on every frantic chord with those ears of his, the contents lost to the gathering storm.

 _'Wait a sec? Is he... tearing up?'_

Against that startling discovery, the buzzing in my ear from the comm-bead was practically background noise. It seemed, at least according to the stunned producer screaming across the line, that their first act had taken it upon himself to change up his set list just a tad. He'd been some novelty; an act to draw interest for the ordered majesty to come... And yet here he sat leading the show with something better suited towards the climax.

Our boy was stealing the show...And Atlas was fumbling and scrambling in their starched britches trying to keep up!

Ambrose himself was hunched over his instrument, his bow flitting along the strings in a maddened frenzy I'd need my Semblance to follow properly, drawing more and more energy from the sound and projecting it to the audience in turn.

Even his droids struggled to keep up, mechanical limbs juddering adding its own variety to the piece that the professor swept up and carried with him, picking up the scattered remains of what was left, and making the best of it.

A calm life disrupted, broken and lost, thrown out of equilibrium. Stolen by something, only to have what was left stolen in turn, his path wavering until...!?

Suddenly, even as his machine man choir continued to build the rhythm meter by meter, his bow struck against the shuddering strings in a startling uproar of noise that had members of the audience jolting back, as if physically struck while their senses reeled in the whiplash. Like the distant throb of thunder having struck the stage, a rumbling storm front upsetting even that delicate, wrong-footed balance while the robotic accompaniment played ever harder, ever faster.

So fast, one of the machine's arm snapped in a discordant screech that was in turn lost in the face of the tale being told. Sacrificed to the vision of the lead, metal giving before talent, but one had to wonder how much longer it could last. The bow frayed near to pieces by the heat of the young man's fervor.

It didn't matter. Not to him. It would suffice for what he had in mind, and if it did not, then it wasn't worthy of reaching the end at any rate. A song of endurance against adversity, the metaphor striking in simplicity.

Unbidden, I found myself leaning forward to embrace the noise, heart thumping erratically in my chest as I grinned like a madman. Cherry shared the reaction, gripping onto Rosso's hand like some lifeline, the Atlesian barely managing to follow in step with the narrative.

A story of sudden violent change, building into something new, on and on. Always moving forward, never faltering... And then as quickly as the chaos had come, we arrived at the eye of the storm. A return to peace, brief and sweet... And in that calm, it was almost as though the Professor was playing alongside someone else, eyes drifting solemnly to a place beside him, or perhaps even further.

Memories of simpler days with simpler problems. Adventures and experiences alongside and among new friends. Fading into calm as the music died away, for one breath... Two... Some of the audience stirred in their seats, wondering if the set was completed.

Some murmuring thankfully as they lay drained, others wanting more... I certainly did... And he didn't disappoint.

Those were peaceful days, all too brief, but impactful all the same... Days stripped away by a renewed upswing greater and more terrible than any other with renewed elemental force, Jacob Ambrose rising to his feet in a stagger as his mechanical leg balked under the sudden movement.

But still, on he played, a deep timbre that rose above and beyond the others, glasses falling discarded to clatter to the floor while his head bobbed with the strain of maintaining the song.

More droids fell behind, one's fingers crossing and splitting at the strings snapped, another slumping to the side smoking. Tragedy, building into a shrieking wail of abused noise that stole breath, and put a cold sweat across the brow.

It was the sound of things that shouldn't be. Of violence and pain, fear and calamity... The Battle of Beacon, the loss and the confusion. His droids tried to follow, but one by one the rest failed or fell where they stood, breaking down one by one until only Jacob remained standing.

Uncertainty lying ahead. New beginnings, new challenges, new dangers. _Everything_ was new... And when the Frontiersman finally did stop, falling back in his seat, breathing heavily with face flushed and hands trembling, instrument listing against his shoulder and bow strained to the point of snapping, the entire hall was silent with the expectation of more.

It was a song with strange beginning, a curious middle, and an end nowhere in sight. Barely controlled, wild and intense. Dangerous and uncertain, yet enduring above all...

 _'Well, I'll be...'_ I wondered as I stood and clapped to shatter the pall, the first to do so as others slowly joined in stunned stupor, until most of the audience was applauding along either in genuine appreciation, or dragged along by decorum. '... _If it ain't an ode to Joel.'_

A song to honor his brother and the other survivors all in one. The ones who had fought. The ones _still_ fighting the good fight...

At the corner of my eye, I could see Ironwood and Schnee in the boxes overlooking the stage, faces set in grimaces. And just off stage in the lee of the shadows, I saw a slight figure with flowing white hair and an admiring face as she stared at the defiant young man.

Weiss Schnee saw the same thing I did. A reflection of someone else, and a reminder of times past. And it hurt, but gods damn was it worth it as the Professor saw me and nodded grimly, understanding ripe between us.

 _'And to think he was only the first act...'  
_

* * *

 **(Aegis of Rowan - Residential Halls)**

 _Sometimes, in rare moments, it still galled me to think just how much has changed in so short a time. So much so, I often wonder if this wasn't all some sort of insipid dream, and at any moment, I might awaken in the dark of the tunnels under whips and chains once more. Forced to hide hair streaked vibrant gold and onyx black, quieting my voice so I wouldn't be singled out..._

 _And yet many moons had come and gone since Rowan first assumed leadership of this labyrinthine fortress, casting out its monstrous Chosen masters with the slaying of that final bedeviled champion. 'Moons...' A moon, that shattered orb in the sky I'd once only known as a figment in story, now hanging outside my window lighting up the dark. Taken as a symbol by the freed people's Queen, and adorning crimson banners in weave of glittering silver strung about everywhere one looked, as hands worked to remove the last cruel vestiges of this new seat's former inhabitants._

 _Those former inhabitants who still tried to destroy us on occasion, though the attacks that had once been almost nightly had grown more and more infrequent as of late with every victory. Rowan destroyed them utterly with her strange magic, and those she trained stepping to the task of doing the same with hastily forged blades and stout hearts._

 _I didn't need to hide, my power unlocked by Rowan, bending the winds themselves to my will._ _So much had changed..._

 _And not all of it for the better._

 _This was no dream. I couldn't imagine a figment of my mind that could hurt in such a way as the sight lying before me..._

 _"...How could she think I'd... **nngh...** accept that!?'"_

 _Viridis heaved himself upright in his sickbed by a shaking arm thrown across his headboard, pale, mottled skin glistening with sweat from the exertion where it was not pockmarked by wounded flesh. His gaze, once so vibrant and the shimmering verdant green of glow moss dulled by pain and anger, glared from the lone eye that remained to him as I stood opposite in the small, musty, windowless chamber._

 _That horrid place that he'd been trapped in since the night the fortress fell, and Rowan rose up._ _A place he'd gone to be forgotten by all. Well... **Almost** all. Kay still ventured here whenever his training allowed, and I... I came with lullabies to ease his loneliness and pain._

 _Pain that Chosen, the one that had once commanded its kin about our once prison in the name of the Dark Goddess herself, had inflicted launching its final, desperate attack. One that would have seen Rowan slain no doubt had it not been for Viridis throwing her aside out of harm's way, and taking that cruel elemental assault upon himself. Much of the right half of his body was burnt and marred, his arm and leg almost wholly absent, with only husks of meat left in their place concealed by thick poultices and wrappings. And his face... His once handsome features..._

 _The power of his Soul had been all that had saved him that night, but it hadn't come without cost. What few healers we possessed declared it a miracle he still lived; that he could still move as much as he could... But this was no miracle. Not in his eyes._

 _And here I stood, barring the path of one of my oldest, dearest friends after delivering his Queen's decree. Sporting the form-fitting leathers and skirts I'd made for myself, a silver plated bow and my back, quiver at my waist..._

 _"How!? Why!? I need to talk to her! I want her to tell me to my face if she's bold enough!... Tell me that you're all... **Rrrgh!** " The young man faltered, teeth gritting to stem an agonized groan. His grip on the board was so tight, his knuckles went ashen white, easing, only to move to reach for the sheathed sword that lay unkempt and ill-cared for at his side table. "S-she... She can't... Rowan wouldn't...!"_

 _Shaking my head fiercely, I moved forward to clasp his probing hand, hating the weakness in it. How fragile it felt under her touch..._

 _"Viridis, stop this." My voice spilled forth on the air, the smooth and melodic alto marred by emotion. "Vir... It's done. Rowan has already decided..."_

 _" **Decided!?** Rowan doesn't get to ' **decide** ' things like this for me, Kara! Even if the others are calling her 'Queen' now! She didn't want that, and we both know it!" He pulled his hand from mine, glowering back with an expression that twisted what was left of his face angrily. "We... That's why we fought the Chosen in the first place, isn't it!? Why I'm like... **THIS!** Damn it all, I was the one who risked myself to spread the word of our revolt! I brought 'her' people together, and used her name to inspire! She needs me with her!"_

 _I frowned, having listened to the argument before from his lips, no longer having the will to entertain him anymore with false promises and sympathies._

 _"What the Queen needs is someone she trusts to stay and lead the colony in her stead. Someone those staying behind can respect. You saved her life. You did more for her than any other to get us to this point." I stood up, straight backed, heart barred. It had to be, lest I give in. "For fool's sake, just accept that this is supposed to be an honor!"_

 _An honor, to be left to guide the seat of her power as Rowan moved to execute this mad plan of hers. To ensure we had a home to fight for; a place to call our own._

 _But Viridis didn't care for such things. He wanted to hurt the Goddess who had crippled him. He wanted to lead the force he had gathered._

 _He didn't see an honor. He saw his friends leaving him behind... And in a way, he was right, of course._

 _"Then she could've left the Weaponsmith! Stahl helped kill that Chosen monster, didn't he? He bowed to her first, and he hated the fighting, always lamenting...!_

 _"Insulting an ally?" Surprise colored the retort. Surprise, and no small amount of anger. "That's just unworthy of you."_

 _"That's the truth! Let him lead this Aegis of hers, he'd be happier. Even Kay, young as he is, would've been better! He's her brother!" He forced himself back up, to the edge of the bed now. Swinging that quaking leg over the edge, and staring at it as though willing it to carry his diminishing weight. And with a pride and force of will such as his, diminished even as both were, he just might have managed it... "'Someone she trusts... That's not the reason she's doing this, and you know it! Now let me... **Agh!** "_

 _Finally I could take no more, not even bothering to draw upon the winds as I shoved him back forcefully across the mattress of soiled sheets and silks with a mighty *CRASH* that almost buckled the frame entirely._

 _A howling bellow of pain filled the chamber, his body curling in upon itself as the motion dragged at injuries that refused to mend properly._

 _That eye - that lone eye - stared back at me in marked disbelief._

 _"K-Kara!?"_

 _"Of course it's not the reason. Does that comfort you?" There was no shouting, there being no need for such theatrics or hysterics now. He wouldn't appreciate such displays anyway. "You wish me to be clear? Fine... It's because you would be a liability in the field." I motioned down at his crippled state, forcing myself to look at the extent of what had been done to a dear friend. What little had been left of him in the wake of that final unfortunate attack, sundered and ruined. "We're leaving, Vir. Rowan and the rest of us are going to make a world the Dark Goddess can't control. And to do that, we're going to have to fight, just like we did before... Just like you **can't** do anymore."_

 _We only had stories of distant lands to go on. Of harsh wilderness, and brutal monsters to bar our path to success. It would be a difficult journey. One we were far from certain we'd even return from._

 _Viridis couldn't walk the path with us. Not in this state. He couldn't even stand on his own anymore. Like this, he'd only slow us down, his weakness deriding from what strength we did possess._

 _'Strength had to be the way going forward.' That was Rowan's belief now more than ever. We couldn't afford to doubt; to be constrained. Not now at the start of things to come._

 _"No, I...! I-I can still...! I can **do this!** " He sat up again quicker this time in an admirable showing, but his shoulders remained hunched, each word seeming to cost him dearly. " **Please,** Kara... If you spoke to her - if it's you asking - then she might reconsider."_

 _"But I won't." I answered the desperate plea as I knew I must. Without attachment, for if I gave in for even a moment, my will would crumble as it always did when we argued. But not in this... "So **stop. Please,** my friend. Don't... Don't make her see you like this. Not now. It would only...!"_

 _"Only what? Make her pity the cripple more!? Make her regret that I **chose** to take that blow!?" He clapped a fist to his scarred chest, heaving with the effort it stole from him. "I don't need a Queen's pity, or you protecting her! What I need... What I **want** is for her to tell me those reasons herself, not hide behind busywork to avoid seeing me. I deserve more than that, damn it!" His voice broke, the pride that I'd always known and respected breaking at last and the begging began. "I could accept that, despite the pitying glances and sympathy. I could accept it if she told me herself... Like I mattered."_

 _It felt like something had been ripped out of my chest, just like when my sister had been taken before Rowan's declaration. Viridis had been there, too, so long ago. He had sworn ourselves to freedom. To be so reduced..._

 _For a cruel, heartless moment, I'd almost wished that attack hadn't spared him, the briefest instant of longing. Only to look at that selfish inkling with the shame and guilt it deserved, hate and self-loathing boiling in my chest at such an impulse._

 _Damn the Goddess and those abominations that served her. Damn them all..._

 _"Don't leave me behind... Not like this. I... I need to see Rowan, please. Please, just stand aside."_

 _"I won't," I said once more, with an air of finality as I held my ground. Breathing long and deep as I tried to formulate words to spare him, biting back a sob at the way his expression broke. At the pain it exposed, his whole body trembling with fracturing emotion... "Viridis, it's not that she wishes this. But for the sake of what she's trying to do, she can't afford to look ba...?"_

 _Too late did I feel the flicker of power and threat in the air, far too slow to react as my friend brought his sole remaining orb up to face mine with an animalistic snarl. The white of his eye swimming with seething, viridescent potency, angry and livid, that reached forth and caressed the barriers enclosing my own spirit before casting them aside utterly._

 _So desperately did I want to move away - to try to react or cry out - but I simply couldn't move fast enough. Not in the face of that flickering Aura that Viridis commanded in this instance like the blunt face of a hammer. But I tried, my hand curling into a fist, legs moving one step, two, making to lunge forward..._

 ** _-"STAND ASIDE!"-_**

 _My body halted mid swing of my fist, mere inches from his face as his Gift... his Willpower... his **Command** , dominated my own, and forced me back like some jerking puppet on strings. __A power I'd seen him employ only rarely since he'd first discovered it, hating what it represented... Or so I'd thought._

 _So unlike Rowan's or my own control of primal forces. His power allowed him to imprint a fraction of his own will forcefully upon another person's consciousness, to make it an irrepressible command. He'd turned the Chosen's warriors against one another, created openings for us to exploit under the sway of such domination, and - though he'd have never dared share it with her - he'd garnered support for ours and Rowan's final victory from men and women who might have remained cowed in chains._

 _Those duped souls probably not even realized it, his power compelling compliance, only to fade into the background. His victims believed every action to be of their own design, never suspecting..._

 _A power that had given birth to this rebellion in its own way, and it was everything we'd ever hated and fought against._

 _I understood all of this at once in an instant of horrified realization until that shock faded as well._

 _My only notion being the fulfilment of what he'd asked of me, and moving from the door way obediently, unquestioningly compelled, without even understanding why I wouldn't comply. F_ _eeling his Soul's touch upon my own almost intimately, a shadow of e_ _very emotion he expressed, every notion and compulsion. H_ _is pain and his hurts, his shame and his desperation concerning his situation._

 _"Kara?... N-no, no! I didn't mean...!?"_

 _And underneath it all, a revulsion stronger than everything else as he looked on what he had impulsively done, white faced, and gaping at me aghast like he couldn't believe what he was seeing._

 _It was this weakness in him that spared me the usual easy acceptance, I believe, that allowed me to remember that momentary touch and my own anger, Viridis having released me before his Aura could fully take._

 _I staggered back on shaking muscles turned to water, feeling sick from the pit of my gut, staring at the piteous creature sitting astride the bed with a wide eyed sort of terror masked by righteous indignation. The winds entered the chamber in a sudden billowing rush that sent embers twisting from the hung torches, and forced my manipulator back against the headboard with a crack of splintering wood, and what might have been bone._

 _"We... W-we followed Rowan. She... She brought our dream together." The words came shakily in piecemeal chunks, as though I needed to be sure they were my own, certain of his lingering influence's absence. "She did it."_

 _"Y-yes... Yes, she did," my friend - or one I'd thought of as a friend - replied in admission barely above a whisper through his own shock and delirium. "Rowan inspired so many. But... But it wasn't enough. I did it to help her. Some just needed... that last little push. I didn't mean to...! Not to you!... Kara? Kara, wait, please...!?"_

 _He attempted to extricate himself, but fell forward, grunting wordlessly through his agonies. And by that time, I had already fled the chamber into the halls. barreling aside startled freemen and women as I went, none seeking to bar my way or make comment on the tears streaming down my cheeks._

 _Let him what? Explain himself? How could one explain what he'd done, the cruelty of it?_ _And he'd dared to talk of Rowan making demands of him, and yet all this time, I...!_

* * *

 ** _-Joel Ambrose-_**

...was standing, that much I knew... But standing _where,_ exactly? After fleeing that cell, I'd...I'd what? Who...?

No, that hadn't been me... Then why did I feel...? No, why was I here...? I couldn't remember, flashes of motion...

 _'Safeholders... Right, they showed up...'_ Memories, foggy recollections of bodies falling on top of me from all sides... _'Brought me down. I think I... Did I hit my head?'_

Darkness, like the dreary cell I sometimes still dreamed of on my best nights...? No, this was more than simply lack of light. It was more a lack of anything, as if I floated in a void of vast nothingness.

At least with the cell there was substance; something sensible to ground myself in. This... _This_ was something altogether more concerning...

Especially given I wasn't alone.

I wasn't the only body present. Appearance-wise, however...

"Of all the...? _Tysh ed_ , I've really gotta stop meeting myself like this," I groaned, shaking my head at the lounging figure crouched low on gently rocking haunches. The same face I saw every time I looked in a mirror staring back at me. "Have to admit, though, this is a bit... different from last time."

This wouldn't mark the first time I'd encountered some aspect of myself in dreams, usually some lingering sentiment of insecurity or aggression playing out some mindless role in a haunting narrative I couldn't prevent no matter how much I wished or otherwise belittling or judging me.

My own personal kind of madness. Every Trapper had one or two, or so I'd come to figure. It came with what we'd gone through, how we were designed. Breaking ourselves, breaking our Auras...

Of course, that side of me had always looked like a proper Trapper. Armed and armored like one, and always with that damn mask I hated. The one destroyed with Rouge in Akai-Hana.

 _This_ one was me, but in a way that had never seen reality.

For one, he didn't have on a shirt, scarred profile bared in a way I never would have been comfortable with outside rare company, daubed in crimson painted swirling designs that curved and twisted over musculature with a savage artistry to guide it.

Cured leather and stretched hide britches and boots thankfully draped my lower half, hung liberally with totems of bone and carved wood alongside what I took for a fur skin pelt wrapped behind his waist.

What made me guess twice was the face, however. Shoulder-length stark white hair drawn back in a shaggy Hund's tail, exactly as it had been after my... lapse fighting the Bies back in the village, and never had since. Bangs hanging low, but not quite enough to obscure the scars worked across the flesh of the forehead and around the eyes, like a fanged maw opening.

And the eyes themselves... My eyes didn't look like that, or at least I hoped not.

The same blue I was used to, but shining with a manic wild light to them, glinting with something old.

"...And what's this supposed to be? Some Safehold reality trip? For one thing, red really isn't my color."

It might make sense. The last thing I recalled was being surrounded by a group of similarly-garbed Frontiersmen with Liz at my side.

 _A spear butte flashing for my face, one I dodged and took from the one responsible, before one of the larger Hunds bore me to the ground. My head struck a root, the first Safeholder's three friends finishing what he'd started as I lay dazed..._

Sloppy...

"I wouldn't know, Pup. It's your head, is it not?" The other me said in a voice distinctly not my own, though familiar nonetheless. The same voice I thought I'd heard in Akai-Hana - hallucinated, more like - until an irate Liz had told me different. "Ah, _now_ he get's it. Took you long enough," the doppelganger spat, wiping his mouth, and getting languidly to his feet, looking down at himself with mild interest. " _Feh_...I noticed the scars, but so many? Do you know how to dodge a blow, or...?"

"Who are you then?" I cut him off before he could continue nattering on, looking on in amusement as my... the _other_ Joel's hackles rose for but a moment, a wry, wolfish grin very much not my own dominating his features. "I _said...!?"_

"I know what you asked. You just said it, did you not?" he shot back simply.

" _Tell me, then!_ "

Without conscious thought, _Storm Song_ was in my hand and at the ready, a silver spear with _Rowan's Heart_ shining fiercely just underneath the thin blade. The other me looked on as if amused, hands resting behind his neck in a lounging stance. " _Now!_ "

"Why should I? You know the answer well enough without me having to reassure you, Pup."

I gaped, and then he was in front of me, my spear faltering, and in an instant, it was taken from me, and I was on my back in the nothingness.

My own weapon was at my throat, and a very smug-looking mirror image leered down at me.

"Slow... _Much_ too slow. You should have dodged."

He nudged it closer, the tip inches from flesh before he stepped back and the spear vanished in his hand like smoke. All except for the _Heart,_ which fell into his waiting grasp

" _Feh_... You really are bad at it, aren't you?"

"You can't be..." I said with a faltering voice made by more nerves and implication then embarrassment. I knew I was outmatched, at least in this state. My body, sure, but the way he moved... "You can't be him. You can't be _that_ Akan?"

"Of course not." He raised his arms, juggling the still-glowing _Heart_ effortlessly between them without even looking. "I'm _the_ Akan. First Chieftain of the Safehold Clans established by Queen Rowan's efforts. Her Champion, Protector of her Frontier. The one who swore my children and all their children after them to the defense of Her lands... Yes, yes. Need me to go on, or perhaps...?"

I started laughing. I didn't really know what prompted it - the situation or the madness of it all - but I was doubled up for a good few seconds. My doppelganger, this "Akan," looking on bemused.

"Oh gods, I'm insane... I've _actually_ cracked... Which concussion was it, this one? _Really?_ "

"Oh ho? You think yourself mad, Scion of Ambrose?"

"I'm talking to myself, again, aren't I? Not for the first time, either."

That alone should have raised flags for most people, but at least that I'd come to accept about myself. I liked symbolism, confronting my problems head on.

This would certainly mark the first time one of those problems pulled this sort of stunt, however.

"Though now as a bonus, I'm half-naked, dressed in furs, and claiming to be some long dead hero I just happen to be somewhat distantly related to. What do you think!?"

"Well, when you put it like that... I take your meaning" He shrugged his shoulders- _my_ shoulders. This was confusing. "You do believe it, though, in a way. I'll admit, you're accepting things far better than Kenneth did, that's for certain. Far faster too, which is good. Haste is needed."

"Why not? Have heard a lot of crazy stuff I'm only just starting to consider believing," I shot back, mind racing back to that talk with Ben in the forest months before.

This nonsense about Maidens and magic... And then add to that last dream I'd had, Queen Rowan's hidden powers over the elements themselves without a hint of Dust to be seen.

 _Exactly_ as Ben had described.

"So, whatever this is... it is the _Heart,_ then?" I sighed, bringing a hand to my brow with another chuckle. "And Grandpa knew? Did he have these crazy dreams or whatever it is they are? Did the old bastard hear voices, too? Go through... whatever _this_ is?"

"Indeed, though he had longer to adjust to such things. Far more respectful, too. He might actually have begun this meeting with the giving of thanks to the one who saved his life, and that of his women, for instance."

"Liz and Asagi weren't _my_ women!" I retorted, raising an eyebrow at the salacious grin on my -his- face, which was one Yang probably would've punched me for...strike that, _definitely_ would have punched me for. Certainly I wanted to.

Then I wiped all thought of Yang from my conscious awareness, picking up that this _thing..._ whatever it was, apparently had some access to such things. I resisted the urge to throw myself at him as the smile grew even broader.

"And you stole my body, Spirit!"

Another shrug, a tilt of the head in an almost canine manner strangely similar to a Trapper's habits. "You offered it to me freely." He nodded at me before looking down at himself appreciatively, "It's strange. The changes made are... unnatural and false, but effective nonetheless, if scrawny. It served its purpose, the Soulless lies dead, and you stood victorious."

"Not me, and it _won't_ happen again," I said plainly, noting the flicker of irritation in his eyes as I made the demand.

Tough. He'd kissed Liz with my body. Neither of us asked for that.

"For what it's worth, she enjoyed it, you know? I could sense it with those ears of yours. More than she might have...?" He must've noted the look on my face or the thoughts in my head because he let the matter rest. "Fine, fine. It's not as though the others can do as such. We share blood, you and I. A weaker bond than Kenneth had, but strong enough for this. How fortunate am I?"

"O-others!?" I choked out in disbelief, before staring at the glowing orb sitting in his palm. "No... No, that makes... By her blood, what am I thinking!? This doesn't make any damn sense!? I have...? I have...!?" I blinked, the answer coming to my lips somehow. My mouth moving reflexively, forming sounds unbidden. "Kara... Stahl, Akan... Albedo, Mammon... Rowan's closest advisers? Her closest... Her friends?"

"She might have thought of us as such. _Some_ more than others," Akan said soberly, that lilted jolliness to his tone faltering a beat. "Rowan was, as you might have seen, something not quite like how our... how _your_ people have ascribed her. _Tysh,_ the ways you've twisted her saga... Practically treason."

He clapped his hands, the darkness seeming to close in suddenly from all sides, drowning out my cry of alarm before I could even think of moving...

His final words booming as I tumbled through a flowering geyser of crimson.

 ** _"Best to show you firsthand! Only way you Pups ever seem to learn, after all...!"_**

* * *

 _ **-Elizabeth Briar-**_

 **(Kingdom of Mistral, Anima - Misshū Wilds)**

"...the times for you to... _Gah..._ Thom! _?"_

I tried his stupid pseudonym again, nudging the Huntsman lightly as we stumbled our way along the dirt path we'd finally come back to. Well, _I_ was stumbling, while our captors moved with a surety of body I'd rarely seen outside of Trappers, our enforced pace pushing me to lean awkwardly into the motion like some drunken moron.

My arms were mobile, but still weak and constantly trembling that I had to direct my full weight just to make the action worthwhile. But they _were_ moving, even if each muscle seemed to be rolling in warm glass with the motions.

" _Thom!?_ "

Any other time, I might have seen that as a cause to celebrate, but of course, Joel _had_ to go and spoil it. The Huntsman remained unresponsive, slumped unconscious over the handlebars of his precious bike, just as he had been since taking the brunt of that surprise attack. A nasty, purplish welt glared obvious on the pale flesh of the young man's forehead beneath a shock of white hair.

That wasn't what had me worried, the swelling already diminishing under his Aura's natural provenance.

No, slightly more concerning were the seizing convulsions and low insensate moans after the Savages had scooped his body off the snowy ground, and unceremoniously dumped him on the bike. He was muttering all the while in that weird language of theirs before marching along a predetermined path, and evidently expecting me to follow.

It was kind of insulting, really. The bunch was seemingly content with Joel incapacitated, and my obviously injured self doddering along. Two foul-smelling Frontiersmen marched on either side, guiding the bike, grumbling between themselves about being forced to drag the weight with them, no doubt, going by the nasty looks they shot the vehicle and its occupant.

Meanwhile, one of the dog-monster things seemed to have taken a liking to me, traipsing at my side, and growling in earnest every time I started falling behind the main throng.

"C'mon, you big lug!" I pleaded, playing up the hysteria for effect as I grabbed for the Huntsman again, and fell across him, questing hands roving across his jacket and the scarf tied tight about his upper bicep concealing the mark of his old Aegis Academy. A symbol I suspected our captors might have questioned somewhat, which I certainly didn't want... Joel at least had been smart enough to act fast. "Don't be dead, _please_ don't be dead...!"

Maybe it wasn't _all_ acting. I truly didn't know what was going on. Joel had taken far worse than this, and been right as rain in no time. Hell, I'd thrown him off a damn train, for Grimm's sake...!

 _"Xiead, Dala!_ " A strong hand snatched at my coat's collar, and threw me back roughly. Boots skidded in the muddy slush as I fought for balance, and glared at the sneering Safeholder, all coarse hair and thick tattooed muscle. His partner and a few others in the column looked on in eerie silent interest at the confrontation. The Dog things... 'Hunds' I think Joel had called them, spread out to take positions guarding the edges of the group without prompting. " _Pa_ _shev'la!"_

"For the last godsdamned time, I _don't_ understand what you're saying! _I don't!_ " I hissed back angrily, taking the opportunity to straighten my coat's folds, hands shakily if stealthily slipping Joel's compact _Storm Song_ from my sleeve, and into its depths with a bit of Marigold-style misdirection. The length of telling silver practically hummed to the touch, and like the emblem, it was far too noticeable to be left out in the open for anyone and their mothers to see. "DO. YOU. GET. ME? _ASSHOLE!_ "

I threw my hands up in faked-not so faked exasperation, stressing every syllable, or about as up as my bandaged shoulders would allow. Half to send a subtle cue that my hands were indeed empty to any that might suspect subterfuge, half to vent a bit of genuine frustration.

 _'If only I could use my arms...'_ But I couldn't, so I waited, biding my time. Still, it rankled more than just a little. A bit of Dust - half an opportunity - and I'd have...!

"I say silence, girl-woman," the thug from Safehold said haltingly, his accent heavy and his speech uncertain. "Qui... _Erm,_ quit?"

"Oh, so big, dumb, _and_ ugly can speak, can he?" I asked mockingly, squaring up to the larger man, very much aware I topped out at maybe somewhere around his chest and meeting his grimace head on without giving an inch. "You trying to say _'quiet_ '? Qui-et? Yep, girl-woman speak good don't she, Savage!?" I spat at his feet, the man bristling like a cornered dog as hearty laughter rippled through the ranks at the show.

Damn giants, the whole lot of them, most aside from the women even taller than Joel, and even those heavily scarred females had just as much bulk beneath those furs as he did despite his little growth spurt in Akai-Hana. Still, I couldn't back down, drawing subtly on my Semblance, and expanding my presence to match, grinning broadly as he took a nervous step back unbidden, much to his own and others surprise.

"Want me to shut up, is that it? Huh?" I cocked my head at the still motionless Ambrose, "You might've killed my friend!"

 _"Feh..._ Not my fault your man have soft head." He tapped the side of his skull with a finger. "He Kingdom Huntsman? Too weak by far."

More chuckles and grumbles through the group, some clearly appreciating the jest or at least the meaning behind it, others focused on the march too reserved to object. The leader raised his voice high above the nattering, silencing all.

 _"Gaab sujehk, te taylir ves gebi!"_

The one that had grabbed me shot me one last glowering scowl I returned in kind, snatching hold of the handlebars as the column stepped back into motion. A Hund's growling from behind jump-started my legs as well with a muttered curse on all things furry.

 _'Too weak, huh?'_ I mused, burning holes in their backs as we continued with purpose, evidently drawing close to our intended destination. _'Just a bit more time. I'll show you weak, and once Joel wakes up... **If** he wakes up... No, Joel's going to be fine!' _I quashed my doubts down hard where they couldn't nag at my thoughts, turning my focus instead on understanding the situation just like I'd been taught.

Figuring what I had control over, and what I didn't. What I knew, and how it could help me... Help _us._

This column was large, but not the sort of force we'd heard rumors of since first coming to Mistral. Not that I'd complain if there wasn't, but I would've expected more bodies with them. Unless, of course, they were a patrol drawing us back to a camp after stumbling across us by chance. Now that made some sense. They'd leave a few fighters behind to secure their supplies, right?

Thing is, this group didn't seem too subtle for a raiding party of hostile invaders. They should be trying to cover their tracks, hell use some of the wilderness smarts that saw them on top of us before even we'd known any better. So why the hell were we moving freely on the road, then? The same road Joel and I had been traveling down before his little daydream joyride.

The pickled scent of slime and mildew hit my nostrils, spurred by the slowly diminishing frost and snow scenting the air, plant matter and sopping wet decay...

From what we'd mapped out, we should've been nearing some mid-sized, out of the way village in the marshes established in the heart of these wilds. A place called 'Misshū' after the surrounding area, or maybe it was the other way around, and the forest was...?

 _'Focus...!'_

Either way, we'd planned to stop there, stock up on some supplies, maybe take some time for my bandages to come off before resuming the trek eastward to Wind Path to meet up with Fortuna. From there, it was on our merry way to Mistral, and whatever came with it.

 _'That's right. We're supposed to be near a populated settlement. So why the hell is this lot so carefree about...!? Oh... Oh **hell...!?** '_

Feeling myself pause as we crested one last clearing, I stared in barely-restrained horror down at a wide-cleared section of semi-solid ground nestled amidst the snowfall, shifting clouds of indolent fog, and exposed root and tree systems reaching out from mud pits and stagnant ponds like swimmers... or drowning victims. A vaguely circular township of widely spaced, well-built buildings in Mistrali style with tiled roofs suspended above the muddy streets by suspension poles.

Streets and yards formed from cut wooden sheets aided in forming proper walkways from what in the first days of spring would be little more than muck and mess, the environment precluding laid stone cobbles though signs of old attempts shown through here and there.

Rather innovative in its way, with faded murals lining the walls of residents and roofs alike with rows of communal rice paddies settled in the center alongside a few interspersed blossom trees just regaining their petals. Likely meant to add a bit of color to the dreariness, improve morale with beauty.

All of it encircled by high boundary walls of timber taken from the surrounding wilds, recently dug ditches and other fortifications. All centered around a gate we were fast approaching, out in the open, not even bothering to hide our presence.

Announcing it in fact, Hunds howling loud enough to shake the air in my lungs, and Joel still reacting to none of it. I wished he had, then he might have appreciated the fluttering banners hanging on either side of the entrance.

One a verdant shade of emerald, depicting the silvery Moon symbol of his home. The other black as night, and emblazoned proudly with a crimson painted hand. Guards wearing dark armor stood at either side of the wide doors, dressed in the familiar cobbled together gear of black with scarlet accents of Red Hand militia troopers, eyeing our approach warily from beneath painted visors.

Of course, the Safeholders didn't bother to hide, nor did they slow or seem nervous in any way. And why would they?

Misshū was theirs. And an insensate Joel and I were bumbling right into the lion's den...

"...Glory to the Red Hand, huh?... Just freakin' great."

* * *

- **END**

* * *

 _ **A/N: And finally we get a real glimpse at what the Red Hand has been pulling behind the scenes, and Joel's too caught up in his own head (literally) to notice. Building to something and a chance to give Briar her time to shine.**_

 _ **Know it's been awhile and I thought it better to get a look in on these two before moving on. Next chapters going to be mostly Ben and a look in at Reika.**_

 _ **In other news Vol 6 is done, didn't end on quite the note I expected but looking forward to what comes next. As for Gen:Lock I will admit I was over the constant advertising but now it's here I'm actually pleasently surprised. Would definitely recommend.**_

 _ **Anyway, feel free to shoot any questions you have and thanks for all the support.**_

* * *

 **(NEXT CHAPTER: Ben meets up some folks from back home, diplomacy ensues for real this time)**


	28. Chapter 28

_**Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One**_.

* * *

SPEARPOINT

* * *

 _ **-Reika Murasaki-**_

"Come, now, you've almost got it."

"...?"

I couldn't suppress a grimace at the hopeful calm present in Pino's voice, the expectation visible even behind that gaudy face mask.

The way his stance put him leaning towards me, utterly engaged like he was afraid I'd fall or hurt myself in the attempt... It wasn't _bad,_ per say, though it certainly wasn't as comforting as he probably thought it was. More stressful, really...

In truth, little about the situation should have been comfortable, given our surroundings. This was hardly a subtle city, at least out here in the open.

The two of us, Huntress and Horo-Sha, seated along the railed edge of a concourse deck overlooking a bustling sprawl of winding streets and avenues that made up Mooring's Red Row. The fiefdom of Captain Harper Majorelle, Princeling of Mooring, and in his own words _"The jewel of a treasure trove, free as the seas. The city that never sleeps!"_

And I could believe it, too, from the moment I first laid eyes on it from the ship's deck as we'd arrived. And heard it - Majorelle hadn't been joking about that last bit - and I'd swiftly had to acclimate to the far-off cries of arguing fishermen, the cries of party goers, and the occasional explosion to liven the mood if I desired any sleep.

The whole of the Row was vibrantly aglow with the illumination cast by hundreds of flickering multicolored Dust lamps of all shapes and sizes. Buildings of similar haphazard design born of driftwood and scrap metal, half seemingly stripped wholesale from wrecked or beached vessels while the others clearly took more than a little inspiration from the former, rang out with the deadening chorus of revelers and rabble-rousers.

Music of a sort spilled from each in turn, blending together, and seemingly accentuated by the cavernous walls of the cove.

Throughout the barely organized chaos, mankind flowed like ants in a vast hive. Folks of a thousand kinds in the styles of every Kingdom, men and women, Faunus and Human, even a few children all milling about here and there dancing, fighting, drinking, or otherwise displaying wares and spoils taken in plunder for other more coveting eyes to claim.

Crewmen and women from the great armada were arrayed throughout the docks, from vast predators like Harper's _Colorless Prism_ to the skiffs and fishing craft bobbing in their wake, flowing seamlessly together with Mooring's own booming populace. So many different cultures and creeds, some looking on me the same as any other, some noticing the scars on my face, others exalting me, others ignoring me.

It was life...

And it was all so overwhelmingly present, similar yet all too different from that trio of burning Auratic presences burning at the furthest most borders of my awareness. Beyond anything I could feel properly, like mist but more solid, a flickering candle but glowing, even... This was hard to explain, even to myself, and certainly to Pino whenever he'd asked.

They were just there. My Team... So tauntingly far away, but always so close as well.

 _'Focus on the people you can see. Less irritating that way...'_

I felt my knuckles dig into the wood, trying to ignore the ways two of those ever present lights seemed to shift and sputter. One seemingly smothered by a pall of animosity and confusion, the other beset by smaller yet somehow larger embers burning within, all vying for its attentions. Attentions that might swallow it whole.

 _'Mooring. You're in **Mooring.** You aren't there. Trust them for now.' _A cry rose up from below, a pair of _Netan_ gliders soaring over cheering heads, their scantily-clad riders whooping boisterously while partners perched at their backs let off fireworks and streamers of sparks in their wake.

So much noise, the whole lot of them celebrating the successes of their liege, sharing in the prosperity he provided. A party made from an entire district; a wellspring of emotion that had left my Semblance near blind in the wash of sensation. Joy, anger, shock, awe... In many ways, whenever I closed my eyes, it was like staring into a sea of glittering stars, beacons shining like torches in the dark.

Our feet kicked and swung above it all - well, at least mine kicked - with nervous energy seeking an outlet. Pino, as ever, appeared calm and composed in my Semblance's eyes; one of the brighter lights to guide my thoughts. Yet he was hurt. One of our recent arguments had cut a bit too deeply, my calling him a 'treacherous...' Well, best not to repeat the thought lest it bring up the emotions once more.

A few days to sulk, and now he wanted to make amends by aiding me in this. By being supportive.

Yet, I didn't need him to be supportive. I didn't need his protecting and mothering. It made me feel bad for being angry at him, even though he said he knew he deserved it. Why couldn't he argue back? Make his point, like he did every time I told him to take that accursed jingling knife of his, and toss it off the nearest...!?

"I'm serious, you almost had it that time," Pino pressed further, hesitating a moment and waiting for my nod before laying a gentle gloved hand on my shoulder. The motion set the bells ringing in my ear, or maybe it was just that damned knife rattling in its sheath as the coins affixed about the hilt jingled and jangled with tinny repetition. "You can do it. Sound it out, slow and steady. Feel it in your mind, breathe..."

I nodded again, drawing in a deep steadying breath, brows knitting as my mouth opened and closed like some of the gaping fish I could smell wafting up from below. "Thuh...!" The exhalation, as always, caught me off guard, the sudden noise broken and unfamiliar, barely above a whisper. "Thuh-an..."

Barely a victory, even if it had the young healer nodding his head as though it were about to pop off. "That's it!"

"...ank... ou... ou...!?"

As soon as it had come it was gone, the air spluttering from my lungs in a rushing wheeze that had me doubled up over a wooden railing, hacking silently into the cool cavern air as Pino sighed and made to stroke my back. Thankfully, he seemingly thought better of it a heartbeat or two later, hands folded in his lap waiting for me to calm down.

"It's okay, that was, er... _better?_ "

"...!"

My fist crashed into the deck, rattling boards and sending wood shards flying for several yards in all directions, drawing a few stray glances from those few souls making their way past.

I didn't care. ' _Get involved, or keep on stepping_ ' was the lay of the land that I was used to in the Badlands. And from what I knew, much the same applied here.

" _It wasn't 'better'! It was awful!"_ I signed blearily, punctuating it with a loud snap. " ** _Awful!_** "

"Look, it isn't so important...!" He gulped as I rounded on him, jabbing a finger firmly in his chest while the other pointed to my throat. The look on my face likely cleared up any doubts as to my meaning. "O-okay, maybe it is! B-but it's been how long since you last, er... spoke, properly I mean? I get the impression it's been some time."

I bit my lip, as though to bite back some blistering comment. Perhaps I shouldn't have. It might have come forth... Or I might choke. That had happened, too, more than once in the midst of these attempts. Vomiting, too. That was... fun-ish.

"Time. That's what you need. Time and patience. It was the same after we... after the _Horo-Sha_ found you, wasn't it?"

 _" **I know that.** "_ My back burned, a short but noticeable twinge along my shoulder as the scars made themselves known. _"I know."_

"Then you'll also know that you were barely able to even move when we first found you. And now..." He motioned to one of the flipping Netan, weaving its way in graceful arcs along the air and waterways with artful displays of daring. "...Now you're likely one of the strongest on the ship. I mean, you probably _are_ the strongest on the Prism, at least physically. Maybe even in all of Mooring."

I raised an eyebrow as he clapped his admittedly flimsy bicep. His gaze avoided my exposed midriff and abdomen, a holdover from the Horo-Sha days he hadn't quite shaken, not that he ever noticed he was doing it. He was too embarrassed for such things.

Good for me, it made him easy to tease.

 _'...Huh, maybe Ben had a point with his philandering after all...'_ I pouted my scarred lips, leaning back with a silent groan and a stretch before slumping back to smack the deck hard, hands in my scrunched face and legs flailing. _'...Oh gods, he's rubbed off on me!?...'_

 _"_ I know this isn't the life you want right now, but it's where we are,"

Pino spoke up all of a sudden after a few long minutes of awkward silence with nothing but the rambunctious atmosphere to fill the void. Chin peeking over his knees as he brought them to his chest, glancing out at the cove proper where the Prism sat in dry-dock. Small, ant-like figures crawled across the decks, making repairs, replenishing supplies, performing maintenance, and the hundreds of myriad tasks required to keep such a colossus in fit working order.

"But you heard the Captain. As long as we sit tight, do as we're told and do it well, he'll consider us free to go eventually. We'll earn our way."

 _"The so-called Captain's actual words were ' **until he loses interest,** ' or something similar." _My hand waved, careless of whether or not he chose to acknowledge it. Though I suspected he knew, the Horo-Sha having come a long, _long_ way since those early days of bumbling through simple phrases. _"Besides, you won't leave, will you."_ It wasn't a question, though it could be construed as such. So I made it clear. _"You're staying."_

"Is that so unbelievable?" Pino shot back, his fingers trembling from what I could make out, even through the gloves. Tightening into fists when the doctor saw I was staring. "You've seen how people act aboard the ship. It's a... a unit, I think you'd call it? They're like your Carson's gang. Different people working towards the same ends for the benefit of all."

I'd heard the argument before. Pino had been the one to give it, but every time he kept up with the same fervor.

"As long as you work hard, you're guaranteed a place same as everyone else. And what's more, I get to help people - loads of them - and they don't turn their backs on me for one mistake. Not that it _was_ a mistake..." he added darkly, that expressionless mask of his disguising all emotion physically, though to my Semblance he was little more than an open wellspring of bitterness.

In fact, I was sort of shocked he wasn't drawing just about every Grimm for miles, and probably would have been if the party below wasn't acting as a filter.

 _"Pino..."_

"There is no place for me to go, Reika. You have your teammates, a life. Mine ended the moment I picked this up." He worked himself up to his feet, drawing the knife and depressing the trick trigger built along the hilt. Hidden mechanisms whirring as the doctor flinched back from the jangling short spear suddenly clenched in his fist. "You can offer me a place, sure. But I wouldn't wish to intrude or force you to safeguard me as you have been. It wouldn't be right?"

I hated the way he looked at it, and he knew it, as well as I knew he had something of a point.

Without Lux, without his people, where would Pino go if not with me?

Sure, he could amble around, maybe find himself a small place in a village, but he'd always be different so long as he wore the mask. The mask he still refused to take off, the symbol that, despite his words, he still clung to some things of his past. Just like I had only months before.

"I didn't make a mistake. I don't regret trying to help you." And of course he had to say the words that would pile on the guilt, without even meaning to either. I'd almost prefer he hurl the accusation at me, blame me for all this. "But now I'm bereft. My place wasn't with the Horo-Sha, I know that now. I couldn't stand the running, the inaction, waiting for people to get hurt before moving to help them. And now..."

He shrugged, angling the spear in a loose grip while looking out onto the bustling city and its dens of mischief and chaos.

"...Now, I don't know. But I'm still your Healer, and I won't let you waste my efforts by blundering off into the middle of the sea to get swept up in the _Wrath,_ or wander blindly through some Grimm-infested death trap of legend just to sate impatience. Come up with a proper plan, and I'll aide you best I can. Until then, I'm afraid one of us has to show some damned sense!... _Erm,_ sorry." He apologized a moment later, for swearing I realized after a stunned moment, shoulders heaving as something deep fought to work itself free.

I wanted to scream, I wanted to laugh, I wanted to do so much and let it be heard. But instead, it died in my throat, eyes narrowing as I realized the sudden lack of passersby along this avenue, the emptiness of the deck around us.

A subtle thing, but to one with a nose for trouble like mine, it stuck out clear as a torch in the night.

Plus, it also helped that I could literally sense the malicious intent of four souls perched in the shadowy tunnels at either end of the byway, tension building like a wound spring. More accurately, folks psyching themselves up to move. How, I couldn't know, but I could certainly guess.

" _Pino. Ready to run, now."_

"Reika, what are you...?" Pino cocked his head as I kicked myself up to my feet, the vents along _Iron Blossom_ snapping open in response to my clenched fist and staggering Aura.

The pressure of it was enough to make the young man cry out as his soul itself was buffeted into wakefulness by proxy, our attackers noticing the shift as well.

A pair of grubby dressed fellows sporting close-cropped haircuts and dressed in haggard approximations of Atlas Military garb, heavily customized with emblems defaced, strode forward clutching heavy rifles to their chests and curved blades at their belts.

Their faces were wary of any sudden moves as they hemmed us in. And unlike us, they'd brought help I couldn't quite discern.

Behind each of the men clacked three Atlesian Knights each, the lot of them as varied in design as their handler's armor with some bearing multi jointed limbs or crackling electo-batons worked into hands, though all still showing the same heavy defacement of Atlas iconography.

The same variety I'd seen all too clearly while staring at one surly bastard by the name Tobias Quinn, Merchant Prince of Mooring. The same man who'd seen us out drinking with Harper and evidently wished to punish us for it.

That or send a message... 'S _peaking_ ' from experience, these things often tended to end quite the same way for those involved. They also didn't often revolve around just one component, and I'd eat Pino's mask if these were the only ones watching us or lying in wait.

This was bad. _Very_ bad.

"C'mon you two." The one on the far right, a jagged scar splitting his face from temple to chin, giving the man a pinched and somewhat squinted aspect that might have been comical if he hadn't been leveling a heavy caliber weapon our way. "Let's make this easy, shall we? Who knows, might even be quick."

"Reika?" Pino said, voice edged by nervous energy as he held his spear in a loose approximation of what he evidently thought was a ready stance. Suffice it to say Joel would probably have been kneading his forehead and cursing under his breath over how sloppy it was. Even so, he had my back. I couldn't quite fault him... not for that at least.

Curse my damned luck! If I'd been alone, hell, I would have fought it out, but these ambushers had timed their moment well. The deck was set out between two separate tunnel entrances each leading off to separate sections of the district. Relatively free hanging, more a wide gently swaying bridge than a proper field on which to fight, left relatively flimsy from years of humidity and inset rot.

Slick rocks and moss darkened slat roofs perched at the bottom, with far more jagged edges than I was strictly comfortable with.

And what's more, I had Pino with me, and I wanted him to stay breathing. If I left to engage one side, I knew full well what would likely befall my friend, Aura or no. He was a liability here.

"Reika?" Said the liability. No... that was mean. The _non-combatant_ repeated, one of the droids across from him whirring the buzz saws it bore for hands into sparking life, blurting something vaguely threatening in binary cant. "What do we do?"

 _"Be ready."_ I signed loosely, trying to make it as subtle a motion as possible while praying to the gods above Pino noticed the gesture. _"Be ready."_

Ready for what? The ship was by all intents and purposes half a city away at best, and anyone likely to help us was spread thin enjoying themselves or otherwise indisposed.

It was why we came up here. A chance to be alone, to get away from it all. A mistake, and a dire one at that.

"So, what's it gonna be, Lovely? Heard ya were a bit of a scrapper, some pet Huntress that bastard Majorelle brought up from the mainland." The machines with ranged implements of death clattered into motion, spreading out to guarantee the best fields of fire. "Y'know what? Push the kid over, and maybe I can put a good word in for ya with my Captain. At least he's givin' ya a choice! Yer a useful looker."

 _'With guns drawn? Some choice...'_

"Shut your mouth before I... uh... Sor... Uh!?" Pino spat weakly, noticeably quivering and hesitant at even that meager show of aggression, sounding almost ready to apologize to the now chuckling crewman/assassin. "Don't... Don't you know the laws of your own city? We're _Bnela!_ We're not supposed to become involved in disputes between Princes! It's against the rules!"

I could have face-palmed at how self-satisfied he sounded for having remembered what Harper had explained so briefly as an afterthought, though I thought that might just provide too big an opening. Even so, the way this pair were laughing at my friend set my blood boiling, my shoulder aching, the bells ringing...

"Sure, that's the rule. Ya got a point, kid!" The speaker, fingered the trigger of his weapon, a smug grin plastered across his tight face. "Thing is, who's gonna prove it? You two ran afoul of some toughs with way too much firepower. New bloods, so reckless these days. Damned shame, and all alone too."

Pino faltered, spear shaking in his hands as he tried and failed to stand tall when he should've been focusing on maintaining his awareness. A damn good thing I was ready to do it for him.

" _Bnela_ or no, you can blame that traitor Harper for this mess. Should've learned to see when and where he ain't wanted!"

" _Trust me!"_ I signed swiftly, looking more like I was bringing a hand up to shield my face like some frightened child, which was what I'd intended of course.

He leveled his gun and pulled the trigger, Pino fumbling his spear in his attempts to turn in a rather courageous attempt to shield me and provide a chance to fight my way out of this. A shame for him, arms wrapping around empty air as I shoved my friend bodily from the platform and into the empty expanse with one hand effortlessly. Slapping an open palm into the decking beneath with the other, Aura burning at the corners of my vision all the while.

A risky move, one I'd been struggling to practice when it came to dampening the crushing impacts whenever I slipped from my _Netan_ during training. The notion of hitting the water at high speeds from such heights again and again provided the perfect incentive.

The results were immediate as they were in the water if far more spectacular, unconstrained by a fist of any sort, the energy conveyed by the impact fueled and amplified by the gravitic Dust lattice adorning the plated gauntlet spread outwards rather than forwards. Meaning rather then piercing through the thick array of driftwood, nails, and pitch outright, the force of the impact spread in a bubble that sent cracks lacing outwards for several yards.

In essence, I didn't mean to punch through one section of platform, I just broke or juddered free damn near every junction of railing and board in the open space. Detritus sprayed all around us in a cascade that set two of the droids tumbling backwards with shrapnel embedded in crucial systems and upset the sudden bursts of barely silenced gunfire, along with taking the floor quite literally out from underneath us.

A desperate ploy for a desperate moment, Pino's spear vanishing off into the darkened alleyways below as the Horo-Sha's arms flailed wildly for purchase that simply wasn't there, one hand clasping for the precious bag of herbs and vials he kept on his person at all times, the other seeking my own grasping hand. All in all, probably for the best, at least I'd finally succeeded in getting the accused thing away from him, and it showed his priorities. His craft and his life...

Right, his life... I should probably get to saving that, shouldn't I?

If one good thing could be said about my condition, it was that when it came to situations like this, at least I didn't have to waste my time screaming. Leaping with Aura-fueled force to snatch hold of the young healer by the waist, his yelping squeals as I guided him over my shoulder would have been somewhat gratifying if the sudden motion didn't have us flipping end over end in stomach churning arcs towards the sharp crags of the cloves cliff sides.

 _'Right, that was what was underneath...damn it...'_

" _REEEEIIIIKKKKKAAAA!... Oof!?_ "

Sighing silently, I squeezed Pino across the midriff so hard he actually squeaked, silencing him abruptly so I could think. Hopefully not upsetting more than a few ribs along the way, and arresting our descent so I was heading towards a reasonably smooth patch of stone along the cliffside, knees bent and poised at the ready.

"Wha...What are you...!?"

"..." I scoffed with a small grin, or translation, " _Trust me."_

Of course, seeing as his face was hanging somewhere near the small of my back jostling against my rear in a position that probably would've had Ben snickering for days, he didn't quite get around to seeing the expression.

Still, actions tended to speak louder then words. The impact of foot on slate was jarring, knocking the wind from the both of us, and sending wracking spasms up my heel and through my ankles. Stone splintered and cracked under our momentum as we grew stilled for less than a heartbeat, quivering and then... Then I was weightless, hurtling backwards with greater force than before.

 _"...NOW!..."_ I kicked to flip myself back around, Pino's screams reaching an even shriller pitch as we soared towards the cascade of lights and life below. Some of it, I could tell from my Semblance, noticing our fall and the collapsing platform behind us with upshoots of surprise, panic, glee, and... and dismay. _'So, they weren't alone after all. Unfortunate...'_

That meant we'd be running when we hit the ground, alright... I could deal with that.

Ben used to pull such stunts all the time, causing mayhem, setting us on the run for hours if not days at a time, until we got away in some gloriously stupid fashion... Gods, I missed him. I shook my head, looking over my shoulder at the now-mumbling Pino, who, from the sounds of it, was praying to just about every deity he knew of and then some, shivering like a frightened mouse in my grasp.

He had his moments. Enough that he might just make a half-decent bandit one day. Of course, we'd definitely have to work on the screaming...

* * *

 _ **-Benjamin Carson-**_

With the performances finally concluded, Weiss stealing the night succinctly, despite the earlier disruption of Ambrose to the set - much to the reluctant dismay of all involved, given the quality of the pieces - it was now time for the finishing accompaniment.

The time most of these sharks had come for, now that the delightful aspects were done. The time for business, gossip, and blood to salt the waters.

It was time for the after party...

"Alright, Brute, I want you to coordinate with Hemlock. He's got an updated route for patrols worked out for his boys. Folks are laggin' longer in the auditorium than we expected hopin' to get a word in edgewise with Ambrose. Twitch should also be sweepin' the place. Should be nothin' here that's not s'posed to be."

It was also implied that I didn't want Dai Jin leaving anything behind, and yes, I realized it was a bit disconcerting that such a thing had to be implied in the first place.

"Then I wantcha' right back here. Need my safety blanket after all."

Fullmark nodded with a sardonic chuckle and marched off briskly, swiftly becoming lost in the sea of gossiping bodies despite his bulky size and outrageous hair color. I hated to lose him. Two minor shouting matches and more than enough liquor to drown a whole township had already caused a few issues that needed subtle dealing with in a way he was surprisingly adept at.

One couldn't just haul some of the most powerful players in Atlas out by their coattails after all, though Hemlock was doing a fine job of doing just that. Only difference was he managed it with perfect Atlesian poise, and enough grace to make it think it was all their idea. It was the reason I had him managing security, after all.

"Oh, and before I forget, Shade and Ghost, you're on overwatch shadowing Papa Schnee and the General, but keep outta sight. I catch even a _hint_ of food vanishing outta nowhere, or folks talkin' 'bout spirits and such, and you're both grounded. We get the leftovers, don't worry. Always a truckload after these things wrap up." I didn't even bother with the comm bead in my ear, knowing fully well that wherever they happened to be situated throughout the grand ballroom, they'd likely have heard me perfectly fine, even over the din of the indoor band and frequent bouts of polite laughter. "Understood?"

 _-"On it, Carson."-_ Etho Corvus' dry rasp whispered over the line for my sake, a flicker of motion in the rafters catching my eye, only to vanish into nothingness. One blink however saw it was gone, leaving me wondering if I'd truly seen it to begin with. Or at least that was the idea. Dumb kids.

"Cherry, mind keepin' the Princess company for awhile?" I said somewhat apologetically as I glanced over my shoulder, noticing the way she and Echo swiftly separated looking just a bit ruffled. "And do try to keep her honest, won'tcha? Seems she's made a friend."

I brought up a robotic digit, pointing in the direction of the public art gallery, where those pieces not yet scooped up by prospective owners with hefty wallets sat building value.

 ** _+'...SHOW THE WORLD WE CARE...'+_**

Right, at least the money should be going to the right place, most every Lien going straight to Vale's relief effort. I'd made doubly sure of that beforehand...

Weiss had been staring somberly at a painted canvas depicting a brilliantly done rendering of Beacon's profile, or at least its profile before the Grimm attack and Cinder's machinations had taken a little off the top.

At least she had been staring, right up until a boy that looked something akin to a shitty Neptune Vasilias rip off, complete with the shaved hairstyle and smug self-confident smirk without the genuine care of the original, sidled up, and started putting the moves on her.

Or what he thought were moves, in effect doing little more than adding fuel to a burgeoning fire.

One I couldn't help but want to see stoked as said Princess' 'boyfriend,' though it seemed the little rich punk hadn't bothered to notice, or cared even if he did. Still, it wouldn't do for a Specialist to be threatening Atlas' elite.

Not when he had people around to do it for him.

"What's that idiot's name again?" I asked a sighing Echo, grinning broadly despite myself at the way Cherry sidled up innocently on the other side of the young man with her uniform strategically placed to get a reaction, effectively hemming him between a furious Ice Queen and herself, laughing politely at some joke he tried to woo her with. Fun to watch, especially since I knew first hand what would come next, especially when his arm started to dip. "I wanna remember."

"Let me see here, um... A 'Henry Marigold.' Seems he's... Sir?" He must have looked up to see the blood leaving my face, his own realization coming a few moments later. I'd filled him in on enough horror stories after all. "Uh... No relation to _her_. We triple checked just to make sure."

Rosso Garrett, good man...

"Whew, alright. Can enjoy this in peace, then," I said with no small amount of relief as said idiot actually had the nerve to look pleased with himself, two beautiful women at his side seemingly entranced.

At least before Cherry leaned up to whisper something in his ear that made him frown with his hand far lower than appropriate., Her knee twisting expertly in that low awkward uniform to land a perfect blow in the fool's midsection, doubling him over into her 'concerned' arms, looking for all the world like he'd simply suffered a stomach ache.

"Yer a lucky man, Echo. I ever tell ya that?"

"No need, Sir. No need." He nodded with an honest to gods grin on his ruddy face. One that abruptly vanished as he received a ping on his tablet. "Ah, seems Specialist Schnee is leading the subjects of the meeting in now. Representatives from, uh... from Spearpoint, I think? I've never really heard much about ... uh, Sir?"

He sounded confused. A reasonable enough assumption to make, given my glass had shattered in a spurt of haptic mechanical motion that sent sober cider dripping through humming digits.

"...Spearpoint? Ya can't be serious?" I sighed, bending down to scoop up the largest shards, handing them off to a harried-looking waiter with an apologetic nod. "Ah hell, this is gonna be awkward."

Thankfully, the disturbance had been subtle enough, those around us so engrossed in whatever sordid conversations people usually undertook at these gatherings to notice. Or at the very least those that did were quick to assume I'd perhaps had a bit too much, the rare few kinder among them noticing the hand with knowing nods. Schnee was unfortunately among that number, brow and mustache furrowing visibly as he regarded me coldly with a leer I returned in kind.

All in all, still a damn poor time to have stopped drinking cold turkey... Another vice down the hole courtesy of people I cared about.

"Awkward, sir?" Suddenly reminded I wasn't alone, I nodded. Setting a metal hand on the other man's uniformed shoulder, and guiding us slowly towards the back of the hall's nearest the doors, skirting the walls, and avoiding the bulk of the crowd as we made our way up the steps leading to the more secluded upper landing. "From what I understand - and I know it isn't much - doesn't Spearpoint's realm lie within the Badlands? Near Vacuo? You're neighbors."

"Technically, in a loose manner of speakin'." It was a something of a sore subject, one thankfully not often brought up due in large part to the relative enigma surrounding the outlying city-state. "More like we barely tolerate them, or they barely tolerate us. Depends on the perspective."

Echo hesitated, evidently hoping I would elaborate only to find himself disappointed.

Shame, but I wasn't exactly in much of a mood for weathering questions, especially if this was leading to what I thought it might.

 _'And it was such a nice night, too...'_ I lamented, thoughts brooding on what lay ahead. And the figures I could see making their way into the hall behind a familiar white haired Specialist...

* * *

 _Spearpoint and the Badlands..._

 _Quite a sordid tale, all things considered, but one had to know how I felt about the whole thing. Provides a bit of context..._

 _What one has to understand, or so it was described angrily by ruffians around pitch fires, was that bulk of the occupied settlement known collectively as 'Spearpoint' is constructed within a series of large cave networks and hollows formed or otherwise._ _Dug out beneath the towering edifice of Mount 'Asa,' one of the largest such pinnacles present upon the face of Sanus._

 _Civilization carved into the bones and veins of the vast mountain itself over the course of generations, reportedly with subterranean Grimm harrying them all the way. Not exactly an unheard of notion on Remnant._

 _Though that wasn't to say they'd not prospered, drawing upon their home's vast supplies of both Dust and raw materials to establish themselves and wheedle their influence outwards under the lead of their own ruling family and governance who stood at the heads of heavily armed and armored soldiers that showed pale in the harsh sun. Many Faunus, and humans, worked together, ahead of their time..._

 _They took up a moderately sizable, if in perspective still a rather minuscule by comparison of the whole, holding within what could technically be considered the Badlands. Spearpoint established jealously guarded borders defended by small fortresses of sandstone alongside other resources and the like, where their stern-faced soldiers stood in their ornate battle gear, staring out at the rest of the civilized - or uncivilized - world with marked suspicion._

 _A harsh, disciplined people, set in their esoteric ways. Much like Atlas in that regard, their defenders were brought up to keep their home from the dangers in the deeps, and in their own series of civil wars amongst themselves._

 _Not all together uncommon in such places, either, though breeding a paranoia and zealotry rare to most the rest of Remnant._

 _Despite such obvious differences, one could be forgiven for considering such a place and its unified peoples to be kin of those stubbornly resilient souls making a living within what was today known as the Shrieking Wastes and the surrounding townships. Spearpoint itself, if the rumors heralded true, had risen from tribes of settlers that had claimed Mount Asa as their own._

 _Settlers whose fellows had formed the beginnings of the region collectively known today as the Badlands, even if it hadn't always been referred to as such._

 _The land had never exactly been kind, but it had been beautiful once like Vacuo... though not anymore. The future would see it become the 'Badlands'. Bad lands, for a stubborn folk._

 _Common hardships, at least at first, were born from common roots. One side choose to delve into the tunnels, isolating themselves, the other choose to remain in the light and face what came. Perhaps never close, but each were tolerant of the other's existence, and willing to provide aid. Spearpoint brought commerce to the lands, trading its riches among the Kingdoms of Vale and Vacuo. The Badlanders utilized their unique knowledge of the land to aid them._

 _The Great War changed all of that, just like it changed so much else._

 _Mantle, alongside the Kingdom of Mistral, both swept across the land on their mission to subjugate Sanus and bring them to heel, heedless of the innocent souls that got in their way. Souls caught in the vast grey areas between Kingdoms, who had never born the weight of rule by another, and had no wish to start, only wanting to be left alone._

 _Used to fighting the occasional raiders or Grimm and not much else, the locals were considered easy prey for the Northern Kingdom's trained soldiery._

 _A force by that time already blooded and honed against the then harried armies of Vale's Warrior King, eager to test themselves a tad before moving onto westernmost Vacuo that lay beyond. Bringing war and bloodthirsty monsters out of nightmare with them, consuming settlement after farmstead after waypost with impunity._

 _Some men and women, brave or belligerent depending on who one asked, refused to run. Vanishing into the wilderness and utilizing the land and their wits to punish the invaders for every step their efforts gave them, harrying convoys, stealing supplies, the became the first true 'Bandits of the Badlands'._

 _Not just thieves, but a wall bleeding to hold the foe at bay in defiance, and give their families and friends time to get away to safety in the meantime._

 _Homes burning behind them, it was all these farmers, herders, merchants and the like who remained could do to flee to the one place they felt they could. To the imagined safety of Spearpoint, and the shelter it had always claimed to offer should the Badlanders submit to their ways of life and honor._

 _Of course, unfortunately for them, the war hadn't left Spearpoint unscathed either. Though decidedly neutral, forces declaring for both sides fought one another in support for either the forces of Atlas and Mistral or those of Vale and Vacuo._

 _The City-State's then Monarch refused to endanger their already tenuous hold on the city by allowing vagrants and refugees within their realm, denying them entrance and aid while retreating into the dark depths beneath Asa to wait out the war raging above._

 _And so the gates to the city, the gates to hope and safety, were closed in the faces of those poor desperate souls. Those that resisted were turned away, in some cases violently. Hopelessness spread through the refugees ranks, and in turn drawing the Grimm, who fell upon the columns like moths to a flame._

 _And that was only the first slight, the war continuing on to Vacuo, where both it and the Badlands were reduced to husks of their former glory in the following years. Farmlands once fertile and abundant were reduced to clods of sand and dust, rivers dried to nothing, sandstorms whipping up to tear the flesh from bones as everything green died along with more than a few of the poor folks that had sustained them._

 _The brave Bandits now struggled to face raiders and other Warlords moving into pick up where Mantle had left off, taking full advantage._

 _A rough time - a distinctly **negative** time - Grimm rife throughout the region delighting in the trials Mankind faced. Herds of the beasts swallowed villages faster than they could rise, and the people of Spearpoint were faced with an explosion of Grimm infesting their precious tunnels. Their swarms were so great, that even with the vaunted Legions defending the underground city and all of their advances and prideful martial bearing. The city was on the cusp of annihilation._

 _Unwilling to see his own countrymen suffer in the face of what he perceived to be the fault of those weak-willed vagrants beyond his people's beloved borders, a close friend and ally of the then Monarch, a bastard-born whoreson by the surname of Laura, took it upon himself to rid the lands of the cause._

 _So as one might expect of scum, he and his men ventured out, worse even then Mantle in their callous disregard as they slew and razed their way across the region, hoping to draw the Grimm away from their home by driving away the rats baiting them._

 _In the end, Laura and his men were stopped by the combined efforts of Spearpoint and the Bandits both, though never did they once work together as they once had. For obvious reasons._

 _Those responsible, including the murdering bastard himself, were executed at his King's hands despite cries to give them over to Badlands justice._

 _The second slight, made all the worse by the fact it was quite clear not all beneath Mount Asa wholly denied their support of Laura's actions_

 _Incensed, furious, all while Spearpoint 'decried' the actions of their once favored son, those living within the Wastes fostered a bitter enmity which has endured and only soured through the decades since. Especially given the levels of trade and favor fostered between the mountain dwellers and the now-renamed Atlas, and the fact that they still believed themselves safe to travel through the Wastes the Badlander's claimed as theirs._

 _Way-posts would grant no aid to the pale dwellers underneath the mountain on the rare occasions their soldiers strayed from their realm, while Bandit and Raider alike would fall upon the City of Stone's exports bound for the North like Beowolves scenting fear. Taking supplies and weapons both, only to turn them upon those that they were meant to be given to, not to mention the ones providing them..._

 _Nothing and no one could hold a grudge like a soul born of the Badlands. Shame both sides could technically consider themselves as such..._

* * *

 _'...And here I am s'posed to be talkin' nice,'_ I wondered, standing at easy attention with a straight-laced Echo by my side.

Rona Avium, Hereditary Monarch of Spearpoint's Granite Throne, was a rather striking woman in her way. Even beneath the glitz and glamour of her exalted station, and the intricate finery she bore on her person, that much was obvious enough enough at a glance.

Faunus, too, if subtle about it, still somewhat surprising even though I'd heard it said enough around campfires that the ruling family of the Cave Dwellers tended to fall along those lines. Or maybe it was just odd to see a pair of reptilian eyes among the upper crust of Atlas.

A starkly pale sharp featured face born of lack of sunlight, made demure by makeup and design. Dirty blonde hair not so dissimilar to my own pulled back out of her face in an elaborately woven bun.

Like the two men flanking her, she'd elected to drape herself in darker muted colors, in her case a dress of conservatively elaborate, if leaning towards a more old fashioned cut of shimmering satin and fabric that would have bankrupted just about any household back home and then some.

Even so, it had an effortless quality to bearing beyond than the extravagantly bright dresses other women in the gala wore, as though she didn't feel the need to show off.

Which, I supposed if you were going around having everyone call you 'Queen' and such, then she probably felt she didn't need to.

Of course, that didn't stop her from bearing enough rings and finery woven into the design that it was clear she was no pauper. Frankly, I was surprised she wasn't jangling as she clicked her way forward alongside a smartly dressed Winter Schnee resplendent in her usual spotless fashion.

Nice to see her again, having been placed on a series of political visits within the Kingdoms, ostensibly to oversee the reconstruction efforts for the CCT.

In truth, she was probably just looking to see which of the jumpier Kingdom's might be looking to blame the North for recent troubles.

Both women marching towards us, parting the sea of corporate sycophants like a hot blade through ice.

"Echo, mind keepin' an eye on me?"

Garrett jumped a little at being addressed, fumbling with his tablet in his haste to stand up even straighter. For my part, I just rolled a mechanical shoulder and flexed my new knee, working the kinks out. "Sir? Don't you mean keep an eye on them?" The Aide glanced at the pair of guards following up the Queen's path, all dark overcoats and dulled medals on their breasts, ornate swords hanging at their belts. "I mean, just in case they try anything?... They're armed. Are they supposed to be armed?"

" _We're_ armed. Don't matter. They won't try nothin'." I clapped the soldier on the back and leaned forward, muttering in his ear as I went so only he could hear me. "Just keep me from doin' anythin' that gets my head taken off, 'kay?"

Before he could stammer out more than a strangled squeak of assent, I was in motion, smoothing my hair back as I went, delighting in the ease my new implants allowed me to duck and weave past servers and party-goers, even if I did hate the subtle clicking noise I imagined I could feel in my teeth every time I shifted.

"Specialist Schnee, glad to see ya back in time for the festivities!" The woman in question and her rather noticeable companion came to a stop, turning in time to see me execute a perfect salute with an added grin for a bit of flair. "Hope ya got in to see the show. Princess really outdid herself tonight."

"Indeed, Benjamin, and we all appreciate the efforts you went through to make it happen. Luckily, it appears Agent Spectre was willing to oversee my duties for a brief interim. He sends his regards." Winter, well used to such acts from me merely nodded smartly, acknowledging the effort at decorum and the renewed range of motion I seemed to have regained in her absence with raised brow and a small flicker of satisfaction. "The General offers his gratitude, and regrets not being able to make note personally. As I'm sure you've noticed, he's rather indisposed at the moment."

"Not a worry. Someone has to show the upper crust a proper Atlesian in uniform after all." I shrugged, glancing to where the giant of a General stood, bogged down on all sides by well wishers no doubt wondering where there money was being spent putting down the "Savages'" upstart rebellion. "Just glad it isn't me this time. Was gettin' tiresome, truth be told."

The Specialist was tense, I could see it in her bearing. A clever part of me realized she'd probably realized how monumentally bad of an idea whatever this had to be no doubt was.

 _'Spearpoint meeting with me... Yeah, someone mucked up. Mucked up **big...** '_

Rona, on the other hand, merely folded her hands at her waist, standing all tall and dignified. Her guards swiftly moved to position in precisely-spaced intervals between us, close enough to get to her side or close the distance to me in moments with enough room to draw their swords.

All very fancy and threatening, really, and Echo was doing his best to match them and look somewhat official. His pinging tablet, and its background of Cherry and Fullmark's grinning profiles smack dab in the seat of the pilot's Paladin, ruined the effect somewhat. And raising a few questions I'd have to tactfully inquire about later, I suspected.

Still, I was glad to have him with me, in any case. Of course, there was never any such thing as enough backup... I reached up with a passive gesture, making to scratch my brow, pinkie brushing the comm-bead in my ear ever so slightly.

"I trust you are at least passingly familiar with my companion?" she said, politely beckoning the Queen into the conversation. "She recently arrived in Atlas just this morning. The General felt such an event would be a perfect introduction to our Kingdom."

"Rona Avium. Queen upon the Granite Throne of Spearpoint. Monarch of its people." The snake Faunus curtsied flawlessly with the introduction, expression breaking into a close lipped smile that actually somewhat felt genuine. Impressive. "And Specialist Schnee, do give General Ironwood my regards and compliments. The performance was excellent. Easily the equal of anything within our own halls."

A darn sight better, more like it. I'd heard the sort of things the Dwellers Beneath considered music. Not bad, but a little on the grandiose side. All cadence and no flair.

"And the lauded Bandit of Beacon himself? I'll admit, I wasn't quite certain the General would be able to arrange a meeting so quickly." She seemed concerned, apparently caught off guard as well. At least it was common ground between us then. Though it could all be just an act... "Right, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised at your presence. This is a night for remembrance of such things after all. Your victory against the Grimm Demons chief among them."

"It's _Vale's_ night, not mine. We should focus on that, if nothin' else." I saluted again a bit more firmly this time, strictly Atlesian, strictly polite. "Still, a pleasure, though I'll admit I'm a bit at a loss as to why Her Highness would be so interested in a meetin' with... well, me." I gestured with all the false modesty I could muster, adding in a hearty shrug for emphasis. "If y'all want an autograph, I'm happy to oblige. And pictures are alright, long as we keep things appropriate."

Out the corner of one eye, I noticed a fidget in the smaller of the two guards and the closest to the Queen. Keeping his dark haired head down and his face hidden beneath the brim of a peaked cap, though a few details caught my eye during my habitual scrutinizing.

Something was off about his skin, but as he seemed as though he were trying to avoid notice, I was more than happy to oblige. He was quite unlike the square-jawed fellow beside him, who, to his credit only scowled my way, especially after I shot him a sly wink. Both bore stylized grey greatcoats and such, all of which did very little to detract from the menacing class of it all, and keen to show off the wearers' medals with names tagged in script I couldn't quite make out...

With no inkling as to the meaning of most of the ornamentation, I just gave a semi-respectful nod and took stock of the weapons. Swords for both, the younger one's looking like something plucked out of a bank vault than something worth fighting with. Of course, I'd seen Weiss' _Myrtenaster,_ though this didn't look like any practical sort of shifting weapon.

His gloves, too. They had a sort of minor shimmer to them that positively screamed of Dust woven into their making... All in all, it was something to keep an eye out for.

"This is my Princess' showin', after all, and I'd hate to make her jealous. Huntress and all. Not sure if you would have caught the Vytal Tournament back home, but..."

"There will be no need, Specialist Carson." She wasn't laughing. Actually, it seemed she was frowning. Not at me, though, from what I could read off her face. Well not, _entirely._ Echo was fidgeting again, a nervous tick he had, apparently as uncomfortable as I felt under that snake stare. "In fact, I do believe I would prefer some directness in this matter. If you'll indulge me, pleasantries are all well and good, but this is a matter of some great concern to the Council of Lords."

'Council of Lords,' or their fancy word for councilmen and women, so basically whatever it was had the big wigs of an entire city-state riled up then. Bloody brilliant.

"Well, I'm all ears, Mi'lady." I made an elaborate gesture, flexing a robotic palm as I did so.

Greetings aside, clearly it was time to get to the meat of what this little get-together entailed. Not that I wasn't absolutely thrilled to get to be in the presence of her Eminence of course, but all things considered, given the fact Atlas had for the most part cut trade ties to just about every civilized nation on the face of Remnant mere weeks earlier, it was just a little strange.

My mind worked through the angles and the pitfalls of a few scenarios, settling on a few likely actions. Some attempt to keep up trade negotiations. Spearpoint being on the smaller weight class of the world stage, they might have thought sending the Queen herself as some sort of heavy hitter to spice things up, probably.

But there was something else. Something _military._ Winter's involvement... and my own apparently, by request.

That presented its own worrying set of quandaries to consider. Bill ' _Hangman_ ' Carson had never liked tangling with Spearpoint, their convoys often heavily armed and their memories longer than most, not that he hadn't pulled a fast one or two one them in his day.

Personally, I'd never had the distinct pleasure, at least not directly. If she was here to bring up some petty grievance over plans made years ago, well... Well, I didn't really know what would happen.

What she _did_ say next, however, _that_ was... unexpected, to say the least.

"Project APEX, the so-named 'Blood Hounds.'" Well, the woman certainly knew how to catch my attention, I'd give her that. "Sienna Khan's tolerated offense to all that is decent. Vermin of the worst kind."

"I've heard of 'em, yeah," I said in careful reply, my good mood thoroughly quashed, fingers twitching for a flask that carried nothing but water these days.

Still, habits and vices died hard, at least in the mind. Speaking of mind, I wracked my own prodigious intellect, drifting back through the mire of every scant report and minor detail spanning weeks and months of trying to build a connection. And lo and behold...

"Your forces have as well, as I understand it. Some... skirmish, right? Back home along contested territory..."

"Territory my people have held in sovereign trust for generations, reclaimed after the War of the Heart from unlawful tenants." She sought to correct me, eyes flashing sourly. Winter took notice as well, placing a hand on my flesh and blood shoulder, one that felt as though a Beowolf were about to wrench off the other arm as well.

'War of the Heart.' Why they couldn't just use the name everyone else and their mothers had given the conflict known as the 'Great War' was beyond me.

Maybe if they hadn't been squatting under their Mountain, only to come out after the fighting was done, and use the displaced populace as an excuse to grub for all the land they could... No, not the time...

"Right, my mistake. An airfield, was it?" I knew it damn well was. Still, it always served to let the other person think you knew less than you did. Which was why I waited for the 'Queen's' frowning nod. "Retaliation, I expect, for refusin' to bend over backwards for Khan when she came askin'. Fits her M.O, 'specially these days. Aggressive shows of force."

I couldn't help a glance towards the painting of Beacon, Weiss still staring at it longingly despite Cherry's best efforts to distract her.

"Then you know my people have a vested interest in the pacification of the White Fang," Rona said with a flash of teeth like fangs, "My people's blood lies unavenged, and the cowards who spilt it roam without consequence. That is going to change. I would like your cooperation in this matter." Oddly enough I noted the guard closest to her also tensing at the words.

Violet eyes out from a face... Gods be _damned,_ his face was a right _mess!_ As though someone had thought to run a jagged razor across just about every inch of epidermis while sparing the muscle beneath, pale skin raised in jagged discolored stripes that showed an almost methodical sort of uncaring torment reflected in pattern.

Allowed to heal with Aura's gentle touch, but leave their mark on the outermost layer nonetheless. And whoever it was hadn't stopped at the face, not if similar trails that ran right down the neck of his uniform had anything to say. That he was grimacing and baring teeth, hell that he was moving or making expressions at all... It stung just looking at him.

"You were lauded as something of an expert on such matters, Specialist Carson. And when Spearpoint approached Atlas for support..."

"The General steered y'all to me. I getcha."

I nodded, the woman and her guards seeming irked by the interruption, especially Scarface, though truth be told, I could care less. I already had something of an idea of where this was going, and the very notion was making it hard for me to keep up the trademark smirk... now more a trademark scowl. Atill I had to be sure.

"Rest assured, your Highness, that our analysts have poured over your people's accounts of the... incident in question, and all relevant details have been directed within our investigation. We will, of course, be informin' ya of any..."

"Which we would, of course, expect nothing less. However, we have been promised a more active hand in events by your superiors. Our honor demands retribution. We must be involved." And there it was. They wanted to butt in, which inevitably meant... "We have gained permission to station one of our agents as representative aboard your vessel, the... _Rock Star._ As such, they will be poised to keep us apprised of goings on within the organization, and provide aid in other matters Atlas might deem suitable. Tactical assessments, operational coordination, and an account of one who witnessed Project APEX's attack firsthand."

She must have noticed the look on my face, eyes glinting as though she knew she scored some sort of victory, cornering me. Or she was just perceptive and I as seeing things... Either way, I was more than a little nonplussed. They wanted a dupe on the Rock Star; on _my_ ship. And what's more, they had permission.

"That's... curious. From what I understand, there weren't any survivors..." I looked to Winter, her expression giving away nothing, just as I'd expected.

"That is where you're wrong, Specialist Carson." A stern fiery tone cut in, the Queen's eyes closing with an exhaled sigh as 'Scarface' moved forward, violet eyes boring fiercely into verdant green. "There was one. A soul with firsthand contact with the insidious madmen. From within their very base no less."

My brow furrowed, metallic fingers drumming my thigh as I took a moment to assess the words. "We weren't informed of any...?"

"It was something of a fairly recent development. One we felt uncomfortable expressing with any outside sources save General Ironwood, who in turn commended our discreet handling of the situation." Well, nice to know they got a friendly pat on the head from the big man himself, leaving me in the dark. "It seems those despicable cretins within APEX thought to intimidate us, leaving one of our own deprived and severely injured outside our very gates no less. That they would challenge us in such a way...!"

I cocked my head at the ensuing needless diatribe of curses and slights, examining the young man in a new light. The ironically careful style of his injuries, the circumstances of his return... curious. Rona seemed to think it a warning for her city to steer clear of the conflicts ahead, or to spook the reclusive city into falling in line behind the White Fang.

Typical aggrandizing with all the little bits of wounded pride involved in such. APEX wasn't looking to intimidate. The Blood Hounds were itching for retaliation. They _wanted_ Spearpoint riled up. For what reason. it was impossible to say with any degree of certainty, those maniacs' motives almost impossible to speculate.

What I could be sure of was that this unfortunate soul had likely proven a halfway decent fight, and was taken as a sort of trophy for their mantle.

 _'...Just like Reika back at Beacon...'_ I dwelled sourly.

Thing is, they'd brought the boy back. That implied they'd found something different about him; something off or overly useful. Something he knew, or _someone..._ hmm, now that was a thought...

Looking past the indignant air hanging about the queen with a lifetime's skill at dissembling, I could just make out the notes of concern playing across her crafted features.

Almost as though she wanted to look to the injured bodyguard, but couldn't, by dint of position or an attempt to cover something deeper, I couldn't be certain.

For his part, Scarface was even more hopeless at the endeavor of hiding his feelings, at least from me. Twitching and jumping at every noise that rose above a few octaves. Utterly hanging off his lead's every word and never straying more than a few paces from her side, distorted features ironically making it more difficult for him to conceal such inklings.

Not lovers, no, these two didn't have that sort of besotted air about them. Friends, maybe? Yeah, that seemed likely. Close allies at some point or another. No wonder she had her prissy hairdo all up in a twist. She wanted payback for a friend... And so did I, sobering thought that was.

Spearpoint or not, we could understand one another on that score, and I'd already dealt with one devil so far... So what if this was probably some attempt to stay in Atlas' good graces? It couldn't be that bad if...

"This is he, Edward Laura, loyal knight of Spearpoint, servant of the throne's Inquisition."

Winter was the first to notice the sharp tug at my jaw, sighting them with a Specialist's eyes. Rona was too wrapped up to notice, having turned with a hand raised proudly towards the young man. Laura... _LAURA!?_

"And our chosen representative in this matter. A skilled and educated warrior, tactician, who has already proven his loyalties. These, and given his...personal experience in this matter, he will no doubt prove a reliable asset-"

"Absolutely not."

"I... I beg your pardon?" Rona hesitated, the royal seemingly nonplussed by getting cut off at the pass, her cheeks flushed a pleasant scarlet. That was the thing with fancy types, never expecting to be interrupted, makes their faces twist and swell up like... "What do you...?"

 _'What 'what?' What do I think I'm doin'?'_

More like what did Ironwood and his lackwits up in Intelligence think they were doing!? Trying to stick me with one of _them,_ and a part of their damned Inquisition nonsense, no less!?

Inquisitors... A paranoid lot that was pretty much just as bad as the name suggested.

Dredged up and sicked out on anything that didn't fall in line with Spearpoint's backwards beliefs. Well, not entirely backwards, any sane person hating the Grimm and those that thought them divine and we all ought to be throwing ourselves out into the wilds to get picked off was all fine and dandy.

It was when that person went around snatching up people in the Wastelands for rumor's sake, burning whole homesteads, and generally doing whatever they damn well pleased near and beyond their borders. Butting into anyone and everyone's business, and expecting to get away with it. _That_ threw me for loop.

"This s'posed to be some kinda joke? Cause I ain't laughin'," I asked her, somewhat genuinely, while turning my head to a now thoroughly frowning Schnee. "A _Laura?_ On my ship? You can't be serious!? Ironwood... The _General..._ You've gotta be kiddin'!"

But she wasn't. I could see it in her terse expression. The same one she used to wear whenever I'd try to crack out a laugh from the frigid Atlesian. Always after some painful mishap on my part, too...

"Carson!" I flinched at the air of command in the Ice Queens decree, biting my tongue. "This isn't the time or place...!"

"Don't I get any say in this...!?"

" _That is quite enough!_ " She overrode me with a grimace that could've split a glacier, eyes so cold I was shocked my breath wasn't misting in front of my face. "This is the General's direct command; an order. Inquisitor Laura _will_ assume a place aboard the _Rock Star,_ and will act in support of your operations as the situation demands. The first of which will be something of a reconnaissance and rescue initiative, following the trail of and hopefully confirming the final fate of Atlesian Special Operative Dorian Altrosa and his fleet, as well as delay the encroaching actions of the Frontier's forces if possible."

For a brief instant, there was naught but silence on both sides except for what background noise filtered in from the party beyond, Queen Avium and I both looking dumbfounded at the white-haired Specialist.

"...The Frontier," I said carefully, catching Rosso's tablet mindlessly as it toppled from his trembling fingers, passing it back without even looking. "You... The General, he's sending us to the dodsgasted Frontier!? And what's this about delayin'? How am I supposed to...!?"

"You desired the chance to take a more active role in operations, to get back out in the field." Winter reminded me curtly, parroting what I'd wanted to hear for weeks now, if not like this. "General Ironwood believes this to be the perfect opportunity, and I seconded this opinion."

"Spearpoint was not informed, Specialist Schnee." The Queen looked to Laura, her expression uncertain, if hidden behind a few layers of feigned calm. "Moving against Rowan's Frontier would be seen by many as an act of aggression. And while we hold no particular love for Lord Lucas Violette and his past actions against the Faunus, to include ourselves despite whatever their own actions against Atlas...?"

"Against _all_ Kingdoms, your Highness, as well as every other organized settlement and culture on the face of Remnant apart from their own." the Specialist concluded, her tone brooking no debate on the subject. "The General will be making a formal announcement tomorrow behind closed doors. Inquisitor Laura will accompany Specialist Carson's expedition, and will hence be listed as an 'asset' of the Atlesian Military, granting Spearpoint plausible deniability in the event of capture."

"We were promised the chance to assist in the prosecution of APEX and the White Fang," Rona acquiesced, her eyes slits. "This is highly unorthodox, Specialist Schnee."

"As is allowing a foreign intelligence agent onto one of our warships in any active capacity. Such are the times, and such will be the deal offered. We will aid Spearpoint, and your agent shall aid us." And like that the topic was dropped. For now at least, there would be words, _that_ was clear enough... "Now, as to the matter of the Inquisitor's status aboard ship...?"

"And what about Mistral?" I had to ask, moving in close to try and avoid being overheard, the words slipping out before I could help myself. "Do we have any plans to move on that...?" She shoved me back before I could finish the notion, eyes downright murderous. "Winter...!?"

" _Specialist_ Schnee. At least address me properly." I clapped my mouth shut, the Spearpoint group observing with stark interest. The bodyguards sharing similar airs of distaste, evident in their bearing. "And I suggest you maintain focus on the mission at hand, the details of which will be presented during the briefing tomorrow. After a formal apology for your rudeness towards our guests, of course."

"I'm... What, now!?" Great, now I'm getting Ozpin flashbacks... Wonderful.

"Quite so, do cease any more immature outbursts, Specialist Carson." Rona cut in before Winter could open her mouth to cut me down further, bold move, and a big mistake. Though of course, she was likely still steaming about this surprise turn of fortune, biting back.

The Spearpoint monarch's viper eyes suddenly flinty, posture rigid if composed with hands folded beneath her chest. Her bodyguards, the Laura included, took a flanking position with hands suddenly on their swords, blocking the altercation from easy viewing. So nice of them...

"It's rather unsightly for one of your rank and repu...?"

"Fine, fine... But what does that make this guy anyway? A grandson or somethin'?" I said over her protestation while pointing a robotic thumb at the young man, throwing her off yet again with no small amount of vindictive enjoyment. "You expect me to wander into one of the most dangerous places on Remnant with _him_ at my back? You do know what his grand-pappy did to us, right? To my kin and kind? Makes what Atlas did to us look like a friendly pat on the back and a kiss on the cheek!"

"This coming from the supposed Atlas Specialist?"

A stern jab topped to the brim with aggrieved irritation drifted my way from 'Scarface's'... from Edward _Laura's_ frowning visage. By the gods, he even looked like all the stories described his ancestor around the camp fire, minus the wicked horns, forked tongue, and... Well, I guess the skin was close enough, though it should also have been on fire.

"Sir?" Echo's uncertain tone snapped me out of my stupor, and I realized I'd almost been about to step forward, which going by the way Laura and his buddies' hands for clutching at those sword hilts, probably would be a bad idea.

Oh right, I'd asked him to stop me from doing anything overly stupid... Good man.

"Specialist Schnee, I must say I'm quite surprised by the sort of conduct being portrayed by one of Atlas' officers." Queen Rona spoke up, addressing my superior in a tone that essentially screamed 'Holier than thou', glowering at me like I was some bit of sand scum beneath her polished heel. "Allowing prejudicial bias to color their interactions with foreign guests in such a manner, especially those offering their aid? Judging the perceived worth of a valuable asset by actions committed by a distant ancestor? Impugning the honor of their home and making overt threatening gestures against us?"

Great, she thought I was threatening her? She's obviously never stared down a pissed off Blondie or Argus. Certainly never a Trapper.

Still, laying it on a bit thick. And she wasn't even done, not by far.

"Truly? I'm quite certain many in the courts of other Kingdoms would look on such insults, and the whole of Atlas itself, with a great deal of interest." At that, Winter looked as though she'd just swallowed something overly sour, not a comforting image to be sure. I'd give the Royal this much, she had guts to say something like that straight to the Huntress' face. "Especially in the midst of such turbulent times as these."

It was just too much, Winter glaring at the both of us now with a potent mix of anger and stern dismay.

"Heh, _now_ who's threatenin' who, eh?" I chuckled bitterly with a snort, unable to help myself with a final jab.

Motors whirred as I raised a prosthetic hand to wave her off while simultaneously reaching for the flask in my breast pocket on reflex, empty or not. Laura, evidently not in the mood for taking any chances, tried to move forward hastily to get between myself and his charge without bothering to cry out.

A fact I was more than thankful for tonight.

The briefest hesitation as fingers began to work and his arm shot forward to grab for mine. Brows furrowing as pain no doubt swept through his limbs at the sudden movement...

Who knows how _that_ would've gone down, well... besides poorly for all involved?

Thankfully, the young man's ire was cut short, arm halted before it could come within inches of me. His arm struggling fruitlessly as another held it firmly in place with an almost contemptuous ease and iron-shod muscle.

"We having a problem here, Boss?" Jasper Fullmark said blithely, grinning ear to ear even as he released his hold on the Spearpoint Knight, Laura stumbling backward two steps into his fellow guard.

No, not stumbling, just redirected and shoved... and in a way that drew little to no attention from the surrounding crowd, all seemingly drawn by some spectacle or another happening near the auction plinths. Luckily for us.

"Heard raised voices, thought people would start to notice." The giant of a man went on with a further cheeky nod towards Rosso, my aide looking ready to pass out from the stress. "And then I saw the swords and just thought... _Er,_ what's up with them?"

Laura's eyes had widened considerably as he caught sight of the tin flask I was weighing in my hand, and not the gun he'd expected, looking for a moment towards his Queen almost regretfully like some kicked puppy. That is, until the Laura focused on my bodyguard properly, gaze going all flinty once more.

A renewed grip on his sheathed sword, though it seemed he had more sense than to try and present arms this time.

Rona didn't seem all too pleased as well, either, now that I bothered to look her way. The Queen placing herself behind her watchdogs, the whole lot of them seemingly alarmed by... Oh. Oh, lovely.

" _Trapper!_ " the other Spearpoint guard barked sternly, Laura moving to copy him as they arrayed themselves accordingly to face the new threat they perceived.

"Huh?" Jasper blinked, whole body suddenly tensed. "Ooh boy."

"Atlas would have a Trapper deployed, here? Of all places, in such company?" Rona all but spat, aghast and staring at Winter like she'd just been slapped. "Spearpoint's halls reel in the wake of deeds committed by men such as this! Faunus comprise much of our population, held in high esteem! Even you, Carson, must see how wildly inappropriate this is!? This is intimidation!"

" _This_ is my _bodyguard,_ not a Trapper. Who's here for my security, _annnnd_ everyone else's. Same as your goon squad there," I snapped back, holding up an arm to forestall Fullmark, or at least provide a visible sign that he wasn't supposed to show these two where they could stick their fancy museum pieces, fun as that would no doubt be. "Now stand down, the lot of ya!"

By the gods above, I could practically hear muscle groups throughout the giant Huntsman's body strain and ease in practiced preparation. A habit I'd noticed with Joel sometimes, and had since learned was something of a pre-battle routine for the Red Hand's finest.

Right before bodies started to drop... And I was now very much aware of the fact there were two other such individuals likely homing in on this confrontation as I stood there dawdling.

Though maybe they were more focused on the shouting match from across the room. What by Grimm was going on...?

"A bodyguard? You actually expect me to believe that?" Rona shook her head, once more regaining that practiced air of regal composure.

Oddly enough, it wasn't so dissimilar to the one Weiss wore when she was expected to behave like a good little heiress for the press. I hated that damned expression...

Wait, Weiss? Why was I dwelling on Weiss?

My mind was reeling, thoughts racing faster then even I could catch, and all the while the implants set above my brow ached something fierce... I was missing something... Something important... Always _something_.

"You are hardly incapable from what tales I've heard, at least in combat that is."

I noted the distinction with a snort, one that had her trimmed eyebrows rising even further.

"Bolstered by the presence of General James Ironwood and two sisters of the distinguished Schnee family, one an accomplished Huntress in her own right. The thought that any would dare think to act against...!?"

A shrill scream rang throughout the hall, every eye present turning towards what was clearly - impossibly - a Grimm smack dab in our midst. A dodsgasted Grimm, of all things, here!? How!?

A squealing Boarbatusk, but unlike any I'd ever seen before and I'd seen more than my fair share, it's hide a soft glittering white shot through with blue whorls of pulsing energy. Hooves digging deep grooves in the carpeted stone underfoot, it's burning cerulean orbs fixed intently on a glitzy looking debutante, though the striking appeal was somewhat marred by the terror writ across her face.

And not just at the Grimm bearing down upon her, but the one behind it. A young white haired woman trembling while my subordinate and countrywoman lay on her bottom, face pale and mouth agape. Her name uttered in a sharp hiss from the aide at my side, his hands already reaching for the concealed side arm in his coat. My own hands were strangely numb, unresponsive...

" _Weiss!?_ "

Winter's startled outcry seemed lost to all but me, the Boarbatusk choosing that moment to begin its charge. The results of which as I'd seen more than a handful of times in the past, if this strange aberration was anything true to the original, would see the intended victim scattered in chunks across the fine carpeting. Seconds at best, that was all it would take.

Someone needed to act, now! Ironwood was reaching into his coat same as Rosso, but with far more composure, only to inexplicably pause. His attentions directed upwards, hand falling away from whatever weapon he'd been meaning to draw. Why on Remnant would he hesitate, especially when..!?

When the reason dropped from the rafters with all the predatory silent grace of a Nevermore...

Though instead of grasping talons, a sword's length pierced the false Grimm in the perfect junction point between armored plates, perforating the spine and driving the creature to a slow grinding halt barely a foot away from the now screaming blueblood.

Etho Corvus got to his feet silently, swiftly tucking the weapon away, looking distinctly uncomfortable with the amount of astonished attention his lean armored frame had earned as he fumbled a smart salute to the General.

Smart kid, something I might've congratulated if my focus was fixed keenly on the smaller figure currently in the process of restraining Weiss.

The heiress' arms were drawn behind her back jarringly, held fast by a similarly garbed figure in a blank faced helm carved with a crude jawbone across the visor. Amys Claret, perfectly poised after moving unnoticed by all thanks to her Semblance.

" _That_." Jasper broke the stunned silence, motioning towards the scene with nod of approval that I wanted to smash in with a robotic haymaker, speaking over Rona's spluttering denials to the contrary. " _That's_ why we're here. Situation contained."

No doubt about that, the youngest Schnee daughter helpless to do more than look on in stupefied shock at what she had done. Her father did quite the same, mustachioed face a livid mask of barely-concealed rage.

Me, I was both vindicated and utterly horrified all at once...just my luck.

* * *

-END

* * *

 **-OC Voice Cast Introduced This Chapter -**

Rona Avium - Hynden Walch

* * *

 _ **A/N: Hey y'all, not dead yet! Just been real busy trying my hand at different stuff and trying to keep myself fed. Haven't forgotten about this just yet, just b**_ ** _een sort've waffling on RWBY works for a bit, also contemplating trying my hand at writing something of my own (Very Rough Idea that)_**

 ** _Would like to thank Wa7chface for letting me use some OCs of his own as well as their city to boot and has been helping work it into the AMBR-verse (First time I've ever typed that, not sure I will again). Pretty much a Hatfield-McCoy situation only with wild west bandits and knights spitting at each other._**

 ** _Sadly Ben wasn't able to curb the Weiss-Freakout, caught up in to many things to focus on her. Sadly, that's a bit of a trend, he's improving but stretched thin and friends fall through the cracks. Boy can't be everywhere._**

 ** _Hopefully the next chapter won't be so long in waiting, would love to hear thoughts and the like going forward. - Mojo_**

* * *

 ** _(Next Chapter: Reika runs into some unexpected family while Liz gets a lay of the land)_**


	29. Chapter 29

**_Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One._**

* * *

STRAYS

* * *

 _ **-Pino of Mooring-**_

 _'...Of Mooring, I suppose... No longer Horo-Sha... Of Mooring...'_

That still felt strange and unnatural, no matter how often I tried to repeat it.

Normally, to state ones name among the Horo-Sha was to declare where one felt they belonged, my former... 'companions' choosing a life as nomads over a fixed existence for reasons none alive understood, or so I'd been told. And I'd never questioned that, having held curiosities about the wider world of Remnant just like any child, of course, though the masks and people's own understandable misconceptions of the travelers with hidden faces had kept any true comprehension at arm's length.

It was just something I'd accepted. Never feeling the urge some of my fellow young souls...

Some left, often looking to see what Elders like Lux worked so hard to avoid, or looking to rebel against what could admittedly be considered a stifled existence without the technology or stability most they met in passing enjoyed. Not all returned, lured away by adventure or more likely taken by the Grimm, while many came back with wide eyes, and a newfound appreciation for the old ways they all held so dear.

 _"The world was a violent place..."_ they said, those that greeted them with open arms quick to applaud them for coming to their senses. Lux never treated them like that. If someone left, the old healer never mentioned it or made any note. And when they returned it was as though they'd never departed at all.

I wondered sometimes if he acted that way with me? If he ignored the void in his caravan, or lamented the fact he didn't have me to mix his powders or tend his herbs?

Did he regret turning his back on me? Did he regret leaving me and someone he'd pledged to aid to Mooring's mercy? Probably, though I found it hard to believe.

Besides, what would it even matter? I had a new life now, offered at the hands of those that had taken me prisoner, of all things. It wasn't glamorous, it wasn't clean, and I knew Reika certainly wouldn't approve... but I was a drowning soul clutching at flotsam. She had her friends, her Team, she'd fight to leave... As for me?

Mooring wasn't a home, not yet... That would imply some sort of understanding. And anyone who'd been to the Port would know that was easier said than done...

* * *

At the very least I could stand to learn some directions, my mind reeling from the attempt upon our lives, and utterly failing to process the differences in barrage of color-ridden side streets and bustling boulevards. Sodden boots slipped and skittered over dew-streaked stone, and thudded on moldering decks while choppy tides lapped at thick metal riveted supports below.

 _'Die, I almost... **WE** almost... By the gods...!?'_

I needed to stop, to catch my bearings... But not Reika, the mute young woman silent and strong as she'd ever been as though she hadn't just launched herself from a cliff into a bustling district below. Her amethyst orbs were focused, her breath steady even as she dragged my heaving body in her wake, weaving or forcing her way through the streets with unstoppable impetus, moving with a grace I envied.

Her head twitched from side to side as though searching for something, or someone.

 _'Someones...'_ I realized, hearing more than cries of alarm or consternation welling up from behind us.

The thud of footfalls on wood decking, juddering shadows moving with mechanical precision from rooftops. Quinn's people were quite persistent, I would certainly give them that, and others were realizing that as well. Pedestrians reached for weapons even as businesses ushered innocents within or closed their doors entirely.

Such chases were far from uncommon occurrence, it seemed. Luckily, it seemed their side had realized how poor an idea it would be to draw attention with gunfire.

"Rei... _Oof!_ Apologies, I didn't mean...!? I...! Reika, where are we...!? _Ah,_ pardon me, Miss, I...! _Woah!?"_

I back pedaled and slid, barely managing to avoid the meaty swing of a thickly-veiled passerby huffing with consternation, her stall toppled and her produce scattered.

Reika had managed to leap clear over the shelf with ease, myself not being quite so fortunate as my bruised ribs might attest from where I'd crashed bodily into the makeshift racks. Not that even such a thing would be considered a chance to catch my breath.

"Where... _Hah..._ Where are we even going!?" My friend's incessant tugging seemed frighteningly close to tearing my arm from its socket before I could think to properly convey an apology to the irate woman. My lungs were on fire, and my stomach still squirmed from the earlier fall, insides turned every which way... "Reika, we need a destination...!"

" _Any place! Not here!"_ She tossed back the signs curtly without even looking, her focus fixed on finding the most direct routes. Eyes glazed in the manner I'd come to associate with prolonged use of the Huntress' Semblance. _"Go, go, GO!"_

Find the paths of egress, escape and regroup... Such a Horo-Sha way of reacting, entirely unlike the Reika I'd come to know. My fault, I wagered bitterly. Still, she was showing a certain aptitude for the finding of shortcuts, at any rate. Even if she had to make them herself, which she proved quite handily after a swift turn down a side alley.

A shoulder thrusting out to punch a sizable hole through some wooden slats barring our path, wood chunks not having even hit the ground before I was dragged through bodily after her, jagged edges tearing at my coat along the way in flicker flashes of ruddy Auratic flare. Warmth pumped from my core to tingle outwards to my limbs, body lightening, my steps becoming that much more assured across the damp decking.

" _No talk! Move! Chasing still...!?"_

As though on cue, drawn forth by her silent words, a spindly four limbed assailant dropped from the slats and gutters overhead to land in an insectoid crouch. It's outline was vague enough I couldn't quite comprehend it through the vision slits of my mask, the impression of bladed multi-appendages, a keening screech of binaric cant from four bulbous red eyes as Reika drew in upon herself... No, merely bringing her gauntlet clad fist back.

 _"Not now!"_ Her eyes seemed to say in answer, punching forth with a muted exhalation of effort that brought about an all too sudden onrush of terror and exhilaration along with it. The Aura generated by the gleaming motes of Dust inset along its frame was almost palpable, the inexorable pull of what could only have been Gravity Dust playing at the fluttering loose folds of our clothing.

All that elemental force contained, waiting to be thrust into the heart of the enemy by a soundless will as potent as steel. Well... More potent than that cladding our foes, at any rate.

Before such a thing, our attacker just seemed to fold and come apart, scattering sparking wreckage to the four corners of the side street while the victorious Huntress and her unwitting package sprinted on, leaving astonished curses in our wake. Mine was lost among them as I bore witness.

Reika was a strange creature of layered contradictions, that much I'd come to learn with startling ease. An elegant appearance waylaid by admittedly boorish table manners, a small body charged by rather unnatural, soul-fueled strength, silent yet emotive... All rather fascinating, really.

Sometimes so much so, I had to wonder if Murasaki herself even realized just how powerful she was in comparison to normal souls. Perhaps even more than some Hunters and Huntresses, given the fact she'd barreled through a machine of such construction so easily.

But at moments like this, I could only think back to the ease with which she'd shattered those slabs of lumber she would collect, fists breaking wood and cratering stone with apparent ease, especially when her _Iron Blossom_ came into play.

There was fair reason Lux had at first sought to keep it from her after all while she was recovering, in the case she turned out to be of malicious intent. I could only shudder at the thought of what that weapon, coupled with her inhuman strength, would do to a flesh and blood person, and not a swiftly dissolving Grimm...

 _"Focus...!"_

I snapped back to reality just in time to avoid a low hanging beam that probably would have snapped my neck at our shared velocity, Aura or not. Reika had dragged us further down through the winding streets and decks, much of it shaped from the guts of beached vessels that in themselves provided glimpses of naval innovation spanning generations into the past, even stripped down and gutted like the fish offered on sale as they were.

Still, all that grandeur was lost, along with any pretense that this wasn't a chase of some sorts. Quinn's men were readily apparent in their patchwork uniforms and gleaming mechanized companions, though they weren't the only ones. Other souls had joined the chase, whether out of boredom, design, or in pursuit of whatever prize we must _obviously_ have been carrying, we couldn't be certain.

Long minutes passed swiftly as we skidded, hid, and maneuvered our way through the madness, navigating by Reika's Semblance and our wits alone... Her wits at any rate.

All I could be sure of was that we were being herded away from Harper's docks and holdings, deeper into the cavernous morass of Mooring proper. And if I knew that, then Reika would have certainly figured it out.

Her brow creased as the jingling of the bells woven in her hair filled her ears, sometimes not even opening her eyes as she guided us forward, searching and searching until...

"...!?"

She faltered as her eyes shot wide, tripping over herself in stunned disbelief I didn't need the open-mouthed quivering of her scarred features to discern.

And I got a pretty good view of it, too, as I kept trying to run forward, only to be jerked right off my feet as my friend suddenly changed directions entirely without warning. Sprinting with all haste back in the direction of some of the worst pursuers, nestled within a district of dingy habitations and storage houses for lesser crews.

 _"Can't be... They...? How would...!?"_

Her expression was still one of surprise, but now brimming with something else... Unrestrained excitement, nascent hope, utter bewilderment... So much so, she didn't even seem to be aware of her hand's movements. Short juddering motions and half-formed phrases I couldn't quite catch, the end result the tactile equivalent of a loss for words.

"Reika...! What are you...!? Where...!? _Oof!_ " Without warning, she threw me over her shoulder once again unceremoniously like a burlap burden, moving now with an eagerness I'd never quite seen before in my young friend, and with far greater alacrity than before now. Unencumbered by my gait, I realized with a spike of bitter jealousy and self-recrimination... "Why are we...!? T-this isn't the right...! Reika!?"

She didn't even seem to hear me, her eyes half lidded in the dull light of low hanging Dust lamps, these ones few and far between, guttering in places from neglect and lack of care. A clear signal that whoever owned these streets hardly seemed to care for such disrepair, and perhaps a sign that a change in leadership would soon be in order.

Regardless, it was hardly a merry place compared to such as Harper's 'Red Row' or even many of the lesser Captains' holdings we'd visited in the weeks since our arrival. It was as close to a slum as it was possible to be in a place like this.

The driftwood comprising most of the dwellings were moldering, and on occasion outright rotting in places. The decks underfoot were pitted and scarred, while the foaming tide pools below churned with detritus and other trash, muting the natural light of the lichen growing within, and leaving a scent that had my nose burning through the filtering slits of my mask.

The Huntress seemed not to care one bit, even as traces of our pursuers returned in force. Quinn's people seemed to have run off much of their competition, the mechanical clatter of metal-shod limbs and whirring servos dominating the heads of the pack, upraised voices and shouted orders delivered in the clipped professional manner of men used to a life of service not far behind them.

"Consarn it, I'm...!? No, I'm sor... No, no I'm not sorry! By the gods, where are we...!?"

By this point, I was growing restless, aching stomach churning from the jostling strides Reika was using to keep us a step ahead and beyond by scant moments and head flushed, tired of being kept in the dark, and wishing to understand why we would be coming _here_ of all places.

We should have been trying to safely make our way back within Harper's territory, or perhaps find a place from which we could mount a decent struggle that wouldn't be beyond the mute Huntress' ability to handle. She was more than capable, even with me dragging her down. All she required was the proper venue. So why? Was this part of one of her confounded escape attempts? Was she trying to flee again, and dragging me along for the ride this time? What on Remnant could she possibly hope to...!?

Wait, why were we stopping? And why was I... _Ack!_

Falling, the Huntress shrugged me off her shoulder, and onto the sodden planks that comprised the threshold of what I now saw to be one of the larger structures in the dilapidated district.

Once it might have even been impressive, a tavern or inn of some sort carved from an ancient galleons galleys. Now, however, it stood as three stories of perhaps one of the most rundown, diminished examples of construction I'd ever seen. Half the upper floors seemingly collapsed in on itself, the slat roof patchwork in more than one place, the walls coated in a thick layer of grime and graffiti.

The largest and freshest adorning the door in thick globs of emerald green, an inane sigil of some sort, but I couldn't for the life of me figure it out.

A loop of sorts, a knotted piece of rope or twine...?

Still, for all its lack of outer grace, the building did seem to bear signs of habitation, namely the clamor of weary voices and the glow of illumination spilling from shattered window panes. Of course, anyone willing to brave it out in this mess would be willing to draw trouble upon themselves, this place seemed the perfect place to do quite the opposite.

 _'Wait a second, so then why is she..?'_

"What are you...?" I looked on in perplexed fascination as her gauntlet-clad hand rose cautiously, almost gingerly, and pushed open the swinging set of double doors with a creaking whine. A palpable odor of smoke, vomit, and sweat assaulted my nostrils from the get go...

Sure enough, there were souls occupying the common area as we entered. Several rough-looking types dressed in threadbare clothing of rough yet durable make. Many of them lounged about on rickety chairs seated about tables barely worth the name, drinking from steaming mugs.

All of whom turned as one to stare at the intruders foolishly wandering into their midst with wide-eyed surprise. Some even tumbled out of their chairs, unable to keep their balance with chairs and stools splintering under their weight.

Despite this, the most seemingly affected of all proving to be a thickset woman all muscle and weather-beaten skin with a riot of crimson curls liberally streaked with grey standing behind what was clearly supposed to be a bar of sorts, the woman actually losing her grip on the mug she'd been in the process of cleaning, my heart skipping a beat as it shattered to pieces across the floor, though it may as well have been silent for all the care the Matron showed, beady hazel eyes fixed on the young Huntress as though unable to believe what she was seeing.

"We, um... W-we're so sorry to intrude! We just...?" I started nervously, voice trailing as Reika looked at me and shook her head, though that alone wasn't enough to still my tongue.

No, that honor belonged to the tears streaming down her cheeks, and the broad smile pulling at her lips as she looked back at the woman who by now had shoved past more than a few stunned onlookers, carefully approaching the Huntress as though unsure she wasn't about to try and flee.

"...R... R-Reika?" she mouthed in a light gentle tone I hadn't been expecting, tears of her own brimming as she laid two meat hands on my friend's trembling shoulders. "Reika-darlin', is that... that really you!? When you and Ben... When Bill turned himself over, we... we didn't... Yer mask, what...!?"

" _Yes, it's me..."_ her fingers signed slowly, and I was surprised to find many spaced throughout the room following the hand motions with glimmers of recognition. " _Hello, Ma... Everyone."_

* * *

 _ **-Elizabeth Briar-**_

 _"An utter gods-damned mess!"_

Misshū would've probably been considered - in many varied respects - little more than the average blossoming example of your typical Mistrali backwater, even more so than Akai-Hana had been. Similar style of building, a similar locale if somehow even _more_ swampy, along with a loose barely perceived connecting to the Kingdom they ostensibly belonged too.

Their greatest defense against the predators lurking in the surrounding woods being a hardy can-do attitude, the random Huntsman or Huntress, and a four-foot high beetle-ridden fence that had seen better days back when my dad had been a kid.

Oh, and how could one forget the far less expensive few peashooters spread amidst the resident? Barely capable of firing off legitimate - if filed down - Dust rounds that might dissuade the occasional prowler here and there.

All in all, pretty standard fare. Of course, just like Akai-Hana and the Grimm, that had been _before_ the Red Hand had appeared along with their proxy savages to shake things up.

Where once there had been a rickety fence, there now stood a manned perimeter wall of gnarled lumber built up from the snow-ridden marshlands. Guards, some sporting the uniform of the Hand while others seemed little more than up-jumped civilians, strode the length of the border well armed with guns not so dissimilar to those the bandits had used when hunting us.

So fresh, I almost swore I could make out the Mantle Maker's mark stenciled along the side. And it wasn't just restricted to them. Many of the older townspeople sported a weapon of some sort, others comparing or educating in equal measure.

And all the while were the warriors from the Frontier and those mammoth canine monsters they called companions, for the most part, content to remain at a distance outside the defensive cordon aside from the occasional check-ins every few hours. Giants in leather, hidebound armor wielding silvery weapons all serrated edge and gleaming luster, stern-faced, always watching...

But the villagers didn't seem afraid in the least. Not of the Red Hand, the openly carried arms, nor the savage foreign barbarians. Smiling and laughing with what I could only assume to have been their would-be conquerors, respectful bows aimed towards the Safehold lot that rarely were returned but always acknowledged... It wasn't right.

Where was the fear? The resistance? These were barbarians out for blood, right? They should have razed this village like all the rumors going about were indicating, but this...?

I couldn't be certain, having more important stresses weighing heavily on my mind. Namely the situation I found myself apart of, one I strictly found rather...

"...Stupid, stupid, _STUPID!..._ "

Sloppy behavior, and I knew it, too, inadvertently drawing the attention of more than a few nervous townspeople and passing guards in their scavenged Red Hand memorabilia.

A mistake I was forced to hastily correct with a bit of emotional leveraging on my part. In other words, dialing up my Semblance to dissuade more than a passing glance. Most simply content to ignore one unassuming passerby letting off a unique blend of bland and undesirable.

From there, it was simply training, a keen eye for the mood of those around me, and best practice. Falling into the role of the injured nervous Huntress the Safeholders tailing me - though they tried their best to hide it - expected to see.

A hesitant gait full of stuttering steps and unsure gestures, a few facial ticks and micro-expressions added in to build the sort of impression I wanted to convey, my head lowered but not downtrodden.

Consequently designed to allow me to continue my little muttered diatribe under my breath as I simply ambled about the town with no destination in sight. My pursuers likely suspected I was searching for a gap in their defenses; a chance to escape.

They didn't see me as a threat. Someone to keep an eye on, but not a threat. I wanted to keep it that way.

Keep how they expected, when in fact...

 _"...Tch._.. Dammit, Briar, you knew this would happen. That things would go bad!"

Lovely, now I was venting. Childishly emotional and silly, but by the Grimm I needed it. Using my hair as best I could to shield the inevitable snarls and gritted teeth that slipped through the cracks in my assumed mask.

"Gods above, girl, you even bloody _told him!_ But _noooo_ , Ambrose says he's just _fiiine._ That it wouldn't be a problem! That he could handle it!..."

And look at what a steaming load of Grimm shit that turned out to be, eh? Barely half a day post awkward reassurance, and my fearless idiotic friend was lying comatose, useless in some bed being watched over by the doddering backwater equivalent of a nursemaid, and here I was doing... Doing _what_ exactly?

Certainly nothing damn well useful, that was for sure...

"So much for the ' _Immortal,'_ huh?" The admission spilled begrudgingly from my lips alongside a building weight in my gut, self-irritation for the most part with a tiny trickle of doubt. I distinctly felt the unease that came with just how much I'd come to depend on the giant blunt instrument that was Joel Ambrose, the big stupid self-righteous lug. The one who'd handled things in Akai-Hana while I'd just laid back and complained.

Letting him do the work of keeping us secure, even while he'd apparently been dealing with whatever messed up junk that was rattling about between his ears. And he'd never complained. Griped and snapped maybe, but never complained.

 _'And now I guess it's my turn, eh?...'_ I sighed, pursing my lip, and bringing quivering hands to slap lightly against my cheeks, the limbs growing stronger with every day that.

Soon they'd be ready to act and prove themselves worthwhile once again. But until then, I took a brief moment, and enjoyed the lingering sensation of chill, heat, static, the whole lot of it crackling up and down my nerves in pleasant if still discordant symphony.

 _'Soon... So damn soon, but not today. Focus on what you can do in the meantime. How to make yourself useful...'_

Starting with figuring out just what was going on around here, making sense of it all. My thoughts drifted back to my meeting with the one ostensibly in charge of this little occupation, and remembering just how surprised I'd been to find...

* * *

 **(Three Hours Earlier)**

"Wait, wait, _wait_! Let's... Let's hold up just a second here, alright?" I stumbled over my words, spitting them out on reflex in response, unable to help myself, caught off by the sudden and rather rude introduction of the bemused Huntsman who'd made way into Misshū's stuffy, foul-smelling, overly-cramped clinic.

His chest puffed out to better accentuate the worn if recently shined up cuirass, and the crimson Handprint freshly daubed across the heart in thick paint. His sea-green hair was slicked back to better show off a thin mustachioed face, narrowed eyes sizing me up.

He'd even brought friends, flanked as he was on either side by what must've been the gruffest, least genial set of bodyguards I'd seen in a long while. All muscle and slack square jaws, sporting sets of that patchwork painted red gear I'd long since instinctively begun associating with the Hand.

Their apparent boss seemed, at the moment, rather put out in the face of the snickering snort I'd ripped loose when he'd gone and named his title so abruptly. So abrupt, in fact, that I'd actually lost track of his name in my own foolish disbelief, in one ear and out the other. And given it'd be awkward otherwise, I went with qualities and assigned him a moniker to act as a placeholder.

 _'...Not so very nice to meet you, uh...Greene? Going with Greene...'_

Wow, that was dumb. Worse than even Benjamin Carson levels of stupid. Of course, it wasn't as though his name really mattered much, anyway, to begin with. Not in the face of what he _claimed_ to be. Maybe if he had been, I might have, but in this particular case...

"You... You're telling me that you're supposed to be a...!?"

"A Trapper, yes, Miss. I do indeed hold such rank."

Misshū's leader, the newly-minted 'Greene,' stood up straighter and puffed his chest out even more like some prancing bird. Chin upturned in that manner of trying to relay far more confidence than he actually felt, and failing.

Strike one...

"A title, bestowed by the grace of Lucas Violette himself, Cahalrym of Bastion and Master of the Frontier's armies..."

My body made to stiffen, training killing the instinct before it even had time to manifest in any discernible fashion. Any normally visible fashion at any rate.

Strike two...

"...And I think it would serve you well to understand what that means. Maybe act a bit more appropriately. Don't you agree?"

"I-I..."

Damn, I'd allowed myself to slip up in my shock if only for an instant, making a mistake. One I soon moved to correct, biting my lip and lowering my head, acting appropriately cowed by the weak attempt at a threat.

"Of... Of course, forgive me. It's just my first time seeing one in person. A-a Trapper, I mean. I've heard stories sure, but... but..."

But nothing, this was ridiculous, pure and simple. A good thing I'd kept my head down, or he might've seen the dumbfounded frown and sheer amusement written across my micro-expressions at that moment giving way under stress, that struggle to hide it behind the faltering mask my Semblance presented.

'Cahalrym?...' ' _Cahalrym!?_ '

Trappers didn't call Lucas Violette ' _Cahalrym,_ ' or at least they wouldn't have back when I'd been around.

Hell, I _wasn't_ around, and hadn't been for months. Months since the last time I'd worn the blighted mask and armor, said the words and all the old propaganda since I'd acted in the Red Hand's interests.

Months of separation, degrees of distance, and even I was having the trouble of thinking of my old Commander as anything but, well...'Commander'.

How could I not?

Since the first day when he'd strode into our lives during that affectionately named hell we called 'Boot Camp,' stretching to the day we staggered off mad Raleigh's slab and painted our first mask, Lucas Violette was simply our Commander. By his word, we learned to fight the animals that had hurt us, by his actions we'd pushed ourselves to the breaking point leaving more than a few broken souls in our wake.

Fight hard to impress the Commander... Complete the mission to the best of our abilities for the Commander... Exterminate the animals for the Commander...

Commander... Commander... _Commander...!_

Heh... Come to think of it, I don't expect stern and serious Violette had chosen the name to start with. Not willingly at any rate, 'Commander' being a distinctly Atlesian title until it was picked up here and there by the other Kingdoms during the War. One of the bawdy bigwigs - probably some disillusioned Atlesian Officer with an Anti-Faunus grudge - on the original council heading up the Humanity Hands Front probably came up with the idea when they'd put together the militant branch.

So Violette became the Commander... Simple and sweet title. One to dictate respect and unquestioning obedience. One had to wonder if said Atlesian bigwig had had the wherewithal at the moment before Lucas took his head off to scream the title in his face, one last little bit of defiant irony... Or maybe he'd just screamed? Who was I to judge?

Regardless, no Trapper of the Second Generation would dare refer to him anything less with such ease, that much I knew somehow in the core depths of my marrow. Neither would a First Generation, those Huntsmen and Huntresses either crazy enough to have the balls to say his name to his face, or smart enough to respect his station... And there weren't a whole lot left of the latter, and just about none of the former.

Besides, I'd have recognized one of them immediately, Fortuna having hated most of them aside from a rare few.

One of the Third-Generation might, an utter newbie fresh and clean. The only problem is that the man before me was maybe a couple of years older than I was, late 20s to maybe early 30s. Not some punk teenager jumping at every high-pitched note, or wincing from aching muscles. Stupidly eager, and eagerly stupid. Untested, and out to test the patience of anyone and everyone with their little quirks.

Above all else stood the simple indelible fact that any proper Trapper from our generation would almost certainly - unless they were distracted or downright moronic - be able to recognize another of their kind almost immediately. A handy design feature to be fair.

And not for any of that contrived nonsense about spiritual connections between those with similar trauma, that shared purpose reflected in the Aura, or some familiar look in one's eyes garbage that television dramas and the like always espoused in media either.

Nuh-uh. We knew each other well enough from the physical signs alone, without the need for any of that intuition nonsense.

One only needed to know what tells to look for, specifically. The medical madness Raleigh having wrought on our bodies leaving more than its fair share of a few telling scars in its wake. And this guy? _This_ guy didn't have 'em. Not by a long stretch.

Strike three...

Physically, Greene here carried the look of a career Huntsman about him, no doubt, if one that had at one point or another grown somewhat soft from lack of Grimm in his little rural existence going by the worn-faded state of his gear like it'd only been recently plucked out of storage. The type that had joined for the thrill of danger and excitement, only to have later realized they preferred the smart, safe method of loaning their services out as glorified security and pest control. And that was it.

He didn't have the grace and care of one whose natural senses were tuned up, and whose muscles ached every moment to find release. These, and the fact that I could hear his heartbeat pounding away in his chest, wary and careworn, stressed to the limit, and slow.

Far too slow for one of us. I'd already had to reassure that overly helpful nurse that Joel suffered from a condition, and his heart wasn't about to explode after she'd checked and triple checked his pulse, and even then it was still slower than... Right, Mr. Greene monologuing. I should listen.

"...were carrying a rather hefty quantity of Dust among the effects Hitam and his people seized from your vehicle's storage, as I understand it."

My new friend kept on blabbing, unaware or uncaring that I was only half-listening, and I would bet money on the former hands down.

"All of it's high quality, expertly cut, and of excellent purity despite lacking any SDC markings or the like. Not the sort of thing civilians would be expected to have on their person by any means, especially not out in the wilds like this. That implies that you, or your injured companion, aren't exactly common travelers."

"Oh... I-I wouldn't...!?"

Well, at least the fake Trapper was halfway intelligent, or could at least put two and two together. Had to give points for that. If he hadn't been I wouldn't have been sure my pride could take the sting. Even so, I did my best to adopt a guarded air about me, lending credence to whatever notion he'd seemingly applied for himself.

Sometimes better to just play along and let them talk, see their wild conclusions and adjust when necessary. He wanted to see a Huntress, one nervous about being caught by what she viewed as invaders.

Scared and nervous, but with that hint of bravado and empowering confidence that came from training, so I adapted accordingly.

"Spare the denials. If you must know, I was a Huntsman working in this area before the Frontier came through. Before the Cahalrym saw fit to grant me my new station and command from the pitfalls of lacking Mistrali oversight..."

 _Ooookay,_ didn't ask, but I was sure he'd come around to his point eventually. Talkers, always the talkers...

"Thus I feel it's not too far out of the realm of possibility, for instance..."

By the gods, spit it out already, won't you!? How long-winded could one man possibly be?

"...that at least one of you, yourself or your friend, is combat trained." He narrowed his eyes with a curt nod, looking me over with that discerning air about him as though looking at something a cat dragged in. "Certainly far too young and inexperienced to be Huntsman and Huntress, but trained nonetheless. I take it I'm correct in my assumption?"

Inexperienced? I was ready to show this blowhard _exactly_ how inexperienced I...!

"Y-yes!" My mouth moved without conscious thought in response to my... well, conscious thoughts. Tumbling back on lessons drilled into me by years of soap operas and by Fortuna gods-damned Marigold herself. "Yes, we... I mean to say, my boy...!?"

Hesitating, I affected a blush and a bitten lip, averting my gaze as though embarrassed. A calculated maneuver, solidifying Joel's importance to the character they perceived, making them think me flustered, perhaps even earn sympathy...

"My friend. He's a combat student out of Haven Academy, or he was before... Before Beacon happened."

A tremor, indicative of trauma, create awkwardness and interest both. No tears, not for this role. Besides, I was barely stomaching all this hogwash as it was. Crying for effect always tended to make me laugh, which was something I didn't need, not now.

"We met at the Festival. He... He protected me. Told me I'd be safe in Mistral. He promised... He..."

An affectionate glance at the unconscious oaf on the bed being tended to by a sympathetic-seeming medicine woman, someone evidently romantic enough to believe this tripe. Her motherly expression shifted to glare reproachfully at the Huntsman and his entourage. The impromptu interrogation was not likely to be allowed for very much longer, at least in her presence.

For my part, I was more put out that they'd jumped on the lie so readily. By all rights, I'd be the one saving Joel, not the other way around in that case, definitely. Present situation VERY much included.

Only reason sleeping doofus was leading the charge was that I needed a reason for them to think I was on my way the Mistral, and given I knew jack shit about Haven Academy, it only made sense to give the unconscious idiot the fallible alibi to avoid awkward questions.

"Hmm, so you say were in Vale? When the Grimm attacked?" he said, voice betraying his curiosity and I punished him for it with a sour defensive scowl. I played up the act, making him squirm. "Apologies, I didn't mean...!?"

"Didn't mean to do what!?" The best thing being it wasn't even much of a lie, seeing as I had more than a bit of baggage to unpack with that night to draw on. "Call me a liar! Beowolves prowling the streets, people huddled up wherever they could, scared out of their damned wits, drawing a whole lot of the soulless bastards down on themselves! Want me to go on, Trapper!? Help you get your jollies off or something!"

"N-no!? No, I...!" He caught himself, motioning to his toughs to back down from their now thoroughly-frazzled demeanors. A quivering gauntlet patting down the fancy gear and subconsciously rubbing at the red hand showing on his chest. "No, and I apologize profusely if I gave that impression, Miss...?"

"Sienna, Sienna Mason," I spat, inwardly grinning at his latest slip up. A _real_ Trapper wouldn't have backed down, certainly wouldn't have apologized like that. "Mind telling me why you've kidnapped me and my friend, taken us prisoner, did...!" I waved a hand back at the sleeping Huntsman, the only sign of life the slow steady breathing, far too slow for my liking... "...Did _that,_ courtesy of your pet savages! I... I think we deserve an explanation, Trapper! What is all... all _this!?_ What do you want with us!? Are we even prisoners, and why...!?"

Questions slowly free-falling into hysterics. Just the right amount of defiance to be believable, yet just a flicker of shakiness to not provoke or unnerve them. And it worked, the Huntsman's face growing smug as he cleared his throat to silence me, seemingly enjoying his role. His _fake_ role.

"All questions we can leave for later, Miss Mason. For now, simply know that you aren't a prisoner, nor is your friend." _Oooookay,_ can't say I was expecting that answer. "In fact, the Cahalrym has made it quite clear his admiration for the services we Huntsman and Huntresses can provide, if properly rendered neutral and unburdened from Kingdom politicking. Students capable of surviving a trek all the way from the likes of Vale would most certainly qualify. Why Hitam... The leader of those Frontiersmen who retrieved you, seems rather quite impressed."

"That so? It was the forced march and the sudden attack that threw me. Sorry," I muttered sourly, thoughts racing... but I had to be sure. "What do you want?"

"We only seek to aid you. Aid fellow defenders of Remnant. The Grimm are few in these parts, but those that have survived the Safeholders are formidable indeed. Your friend also needs help, it seems. We can help."

" _And?_ " I said, all polite pretense slipping away. "You want something else, right? What is it? Our Dust? Money? Information? 'Cause just so you know, we don't have much of the last two... Really nothing at all, in fact. And as for the Dust..."

"No, no it's actually quite simple." He waved me off, laughing like I shouldn't have expected a robbery. Though, of course, given the Red Hand liberally sprinkled throughout the area I'd be expecting far, _far_ worse. Thankfully, it had been months, and Joel and I hadn't exactly been keeping up to our old grooming standards... "All we would ask of you is to consider a choice. Walk our town, talk to folks, see what the Frontier has offered us. and how things have changed. Then, perhaps you might be persuaded..."

No...

"...to potentially reexamine your motives for heading back to Haven Academy, and the craven bureaucrats who consider themselves her masters..."

No, no, no, you've gotta be kidding me!... _Really!?_ Yeah, he's actually holding out a hand. This was happening...

"...And if so, we would be more than willing to perhaps...?"

* * *

 _'...Offer me a job, of all things!? **Seriously!?** From the Red Hand, and its fake Trapper, too!?' _It was all I could do not to burst out laughing at the irony of it all, covering it up the impulse with a demure nod towards a pair of Red Hand guards pretending they weren't keeping an eye on me. _'By the absent gods, Master would just love this little mess we've literally driven ourselves into this time...'_

Yeah, no, what was I even...? This wasn't by any means a 'little' mess at all.

No, no, this was 'bleeding all over the gods-damned rug, and the cops are on the way' levels of steaming mess. And here I was, stuck alone, holding the knife while my accomplice, my supposed 'guardian'/partner, whatever, was laid up with the gods only knew what screwed up in his head.

I shifted as I walked, adjusting the fit of the heavy overlarge coat draped across my shoulders, and feeling the not-so-reassuring weight of Joel's accursed weapon jostling between the folds, humming with latent energy I could feel traversing its way up my thigh and down my spine. It wasn't altogether painful, but far from comfortable... And Ambrose thought it was a good idea to carry this thing around?

 _'FOCUS!'_

Our host hadn't been all too clear on what my status was as I 'decided' on my future career prospects, but he hadn't precisely stated I was a prisoner. I mean, they were letting me walk around... with supervision. And I hadn't been told I couldn't leave the town's boundaries if I wanted... though they'd impounded the motorbike and all our supplies, but I could still maneuver about... And Joel was smack dab in enemy hands, one thorough inspection from someone half-competent away from discovery...

Problems and advantages for later. Right now, I needed to learn my environment. Find some shelter, for one. Greene hadn't exactly been too forthcoming about my accommodations during this little layover, but I'd be damned if I was expected to willingly sleep under the same roof as a bunch of Red Hand sycophants and savages.

 _'So then, find shelter and regroup. Let's tentatively call that objective one, and... Hmm, what's_ _...? No, gotta stay foc... Huh?'_

I skidded to an abrupt halt in the sodden slurry, almost managing to tumble face first into the road along the way as my ears pricked up to a rather curious melody carrying over the wind.

A warm, sweet, musical tone that distinguished itself right away from the bog-standard background noise filling the settlement, upraised voices of merchants and pedestrians, the occasional staccato of tightly drilled shots from training yards, the rattle of carts and rapid-paced industry...this stuck out as something distinctly different.

So different, I found to my absent surprise that I couldn't tear myself away from it no matter how hard I tried. Not that I put up much resistance, drawn in by the noise as it continued on and on and on... The sound filled my skull, driving away my worries.

Absentmindedly, I followed the melody off the main road, and through tight causeways and loose avenues, head bobbing along in time with the tune, until I finally laid eyes on the source of the ruckus at the end of a long boulevard of ramshackle homes along the outskirts. It was closer to the Grimm and further from the wealth still maintaining a hold even with the Hand in charge. My target was tucked away in the middle of a sizeable crowd of curious onlookers, doubtless drawn off the beaten path, just as I had been.

A kid, of all things, no more than eleven or maybe twelve. A slightly battered fiddle clutched in one hand, while the other gently dragged a frayed bow across the strings. Thin, dexterous fingers worked to produce that sweet enchanting melody that filled the air.

Up close, it only became more and more apparent the kid knew his craft, and he was reveling in the attention, a small cheeky smirk flashing at my approach.

Yellow-amber eyes gleamed mischievously from a rosy-cheeked, olive-skinned visage framed by bushy unkempt ginger hair, both spattered liberally with a fine coating of dirt. Dressed in ragged shorts, a tattered shirt that practically hung off a wiry frame, complete with an overlarge coat more patches and scruff rather than fabric that fluttered around his scraped knees, just like the tail...

Wait, _tail!?_

I blinked with a sudden frown, and sure enough, there was a tail gently swaying with his languid movements.

A feline appendage of the same vibrant color as his hair, and somehow even more caked in grime and dirt than the rest of him. The young Faunus... Yeah, a Faunus... The first one I'd seen since my arrival, come to think of it.

Not all together uncommon sure. They were pretty rare in retrospect the further one got from Menagerie, but they always seemed to have a habit of popping up just like... like vermin, so... If they weren't around, then where...? What was I doing...?

There I stood dumbfounded, thoughts moving like sludge, and my temper rising moments before all of that was stolen away with a high sumptuous note that hit my ears like warm velvet. The sudden feeling actually put me off balance with a sudden head rush into the side of a sour-faced village guard in makeshift garb meant to imitate his Red Hand conquerors, the man elbowing me aside with a muttered grunt of irritation, and something about 'swooning ditzes with fluff between their ears', which I should have rebuked him for.

Which I _would_ have rebuked him for... but he was right after a fashion. Whatever was happening had taken the crowd, but it had completely enamored me as I found myself swaying along in time with a dopey smile on lips that couldn't help themselves.

Every twang of the strings carried something new. Every draw of the bow sparked joy and captivation. I could hear each ringing note resonating with the emptiness in my head as it drowned out everything else...

 _...No, something was up! Something was wrong... And it felt rather nice, actually..._

I couldn't seem to string two thoughts together through the tingling warmth in my eardrums, and I didn't care... Just the sound affected me. Only the sound. Carrying me along as the stray cat gently began to move about the crowd, picking up the rhythm to a jaunty jig as some tried their best to clap along in time to the random cadence.

And against all reason, I was among them, my arms shaking from the effort, so I was stuck bobbing in place. Blinking away the sudden rush of exhilarating adrenaline at the change in tune, my heart raced even faster and faster, feeling fit to burst out of my chest... It was already more than enough to have killed a normal gal my size three times over. But it felt so...

 _...Hey, what!? This isn't...!?_

The stray cat was moving now out the corner of my awareness, skipping and leaping about throwing friendly elbows at the men to spur them into joining his little dance and sidling up to the women in the crowd with those big eyes as round as dinner plates, laughing all the while while the beat of the fiddle grew faster and faster. Frankly, I was surprised the kid had the energy to act so spry, practically all skin and bones as he was.

One instant he was weaving in-between a pair of jolly farmers who'd somehow found some cups and a bit of booze out of nowhere, the next he was dodging the grasping hands of a pudgy matron declaring him the cutest little thing she'd ever seen, despite the layer of filth and neglect coating him. Others pulled away, muttering under their breaths about the 'dirty Faunus,' but others...

 _...Hey! Did someone just touch my... Ah, what's the...!?_ _Huh, the hell am I...?_

"...doing?" I said abruptly in blinking astonishment before wincing and clutching at aching ears, coming back to myself slowly, along with the rest of the haggard looking crowd. The whole lot of them were red-faced and breathing heavily, many rubbing at sore limbs, or shaking the fog from their heads same as I was.

Only, unlike them, I tried to take a faltering step, and crumpled to my knees, light headed and feeling like the world was spinning as inattentively waved off a few confused offers for aid.

Not like they could help, my body instinctively gasping for more air than it could possibly take in all at once, driven by the adrenaline-fueled shock to my system from so much excitement dying away all at once.

My Semblance was making itself known, too, people unconsciously building distance from me in response to the agitation. Feelings I suppressed with a monumental groan of effort that physically almost hurt.

"W-what was that?" I asked no one in particular between attempts at long slow breaths, more needing to hear it for my benefit than anyone else. My mind raced intensely now that the strange wool had been pulled aside as though a dam had burst, scenarios and ideas falling all over each other, panic, confusion, curiosity... "Did he... What did that kid do? Why did it hit me so...?"

"Ay, damn it! Where's... Where's my bloody wallet!?"

Valid questions, both cut short as my body leaped once more into near-readiness in response to an outraged cry welling up from one of the drunkards. The farmer's hands rifled through the pockets of his overalls while his friend awkwardly sipped at his mug, his anger and stupefied incredulity plainly written across his ruddy features.

And worst of all, he wasn't the last, similar cries rising up one after the other.

"My necklace, where did my... * _Eek!_ * No, no, not my bracelet, too...!?"

"Robbery! I've been robbed! What...!?"

"...happened to all my Lien!? I swear I had...!?

"...my ring, did I drop...!? _Agh,_ the wife's gonna tan my...!"

Comically, even the handsy guard had somehow managed to misplace his radio bead in all the confusion. Pawing at his ear, and gaping while simultaneously being buried under a veritable avalanche of victims announcing themselves. Really, that mix of desperate and stupefaction, it should've had me chuckling... Only I wasn't in much of a mood for it.

"W-wait a sec, wha...?" No, I was a bit preoccupied with the sudden absence of a telling weight supposed to be hanging at my side. Just like it had been all morning since I'd grabbed it. "Did he...!? Did that stupid Stray really...!? No, no, no, _noooo!_ "

Driven by frantic disbelief, I rooted around in the folds of my coat growing steadily more and more desperate, not to mention more and more livid. Vehemently cursing my hand's awkward twitches and bearing the momentary muscle cramps until I was sure what I sought wasn't about just tumble out onto the ground.

An alternative I'd have much preferred despite the awkward question, my face burning as more and more people began to back away from the frantic young woman, and the unseen sense of menace she exuded in roiling waves... It'd have all been worth it if it would just be there... But no such luck.

Joel's weapon, that precious stupid cursed little heirloom, the _Storm Song..._ was gone. That feeling from before, it must've been...

"Ooh, why...! _WHY THAT LITTLE...!_ "

* * *

 _ **-Reika Murasaki-**_

"...devil. They're takin' their sweet time with this, ain't they?" Ma commented dryly in her hearty baritone in a sentiment I found myself agreeing with rather heartily.

As it stood, it took Quinn's people a few long minutes before they bothered following up after the two of us.

Far longer than it should have, clearly confident they'd cornered us properly. Nowhere left for the rats they sought to hide, and outgunned if we'd think to fight. Three of them chose to make a go at negotiating. Far fewer than there should've been.

Scarface from the platform ambush and his cronies in their pilfered Atlas dress forced their way through the creaking set of double doors, flanked by a pair of large, stuttering mechanical droids of bipedal design, if distinctly eclectic taste. Designed to be intimidating in appearance, all serrated blade limbs and juddering armored chassis that likely would've done a rather fine job of dissuading resistance from any other batch of rogues the port society might have offered in a place like this.

"All you sour louts clear space! We've got important business by order of Admiral Tobi... Tobias...!?"

Thus they were more than a little surprised to find roughly two dozen armed men and women pointing all manner of pistol, rifle in all shapes from standard to more exotic homemade examples cocked right in their beady-eyed faces, along with more than pittance of sharp knives and picks... or at least that was the impression I received through my Semblance as I sat, legs kicking on the bar top's edge, grinning broadly.

"Hmm? You say somethin', hun? Didn't quite catch that." Ma's meaty arms wrapped securely around Pino's and my shoulders, the healer squirming uncomfortably as his masked eyes took in the suddenly quiet scene. The tension was so thick, one could probably have cut it with a blunted spoon.

Or perhaps he was merely frazzled by the hefty cleavage the broad woman shoved full in his face... Also possible. I felt my smile falter just a tad for some reason I didn't wish to dwell on.

"We, er... We come for... for, um...!?" Scarface blurted piecemeal through gritted teeth, holding up a hand to forestall the kill routines on his droids. His watery gaze figuring out in a moment, just as one would expect of a consummate thief and rogue, just how outgunned he and his mates truly were. "We've pressing business with those two kids ya got there, folks. Lower the pieces."

"Ooh, thought that was what ya meant. Just checkin'."

Not a soul moved to comply, but for those closest to the doorway, and that being only to shift into better cover from which to place a perfect shot and provide easier lines of fire for their fellows. What traces of blood remained in the mercenary's clammy, rough-hewn visage fled with all the readiness of a scoundrel from a bedroom window, an audible gulp as the machines behind him whirred and clicked.

Systems detecting trouble, actionable threats, though of course waiting for the order to attack, or otherwise shift to a more ranged persuasion.

 ** _"-TARGETS CONFIRMED... COMMENCE ATTACK PATTERN-"_**

As if the clankers got the chance, one wrong move raring to see them ripped apart in a hailstorm of Dust on the wrong side of a Badlands welcoming party. And our boy knew it, too.

" _Hold fire!_ " the pirate called in a high-pitched grimace, passing off a complicated hand gesture that had his people lowering their weapons, something to remember for later perhaps... "Like I said, ma'am, we've business with those kids. Hand em' over."

"Got business, do ya now, son?" the matron drawled cordially in that way of hers I so fondly remembered, that manner that made hardened bandits step lively and eager scoundrels think twice. "Now y'see, that's a damn shame. Wish I could help, but ain't no one come runnin' in 'ere last I checked! Certainly no kids. Anyone see two kids run in while I wasn't lookin'? I'd think that'd stand out." A chorus of 'nays' and 'nopes' rose from all around, underlaid by the clacking and clattering of chambered rounds. "Huh? Looks like you done ran outta luck there. Reckon ya might wanna check further down the row, see if y'all can't find some more."

Scarface scowled, glaring me hatefully right in the eye with a hand trailing for the pistol holstered at his waist.

Frankly, I couldn't help myself after the chase he'd forced me on, shooting a playful wink that brought a fresh coat of red to his features, which served him well given his complexion down here in the poorly lit depths.

"I work under the command of Tobias Quinn, lass! Admiral of Mooring's Fleets, Captain of the Skies, a man the Cahalrym declared would lead...!"

"Funny, does that fancy talkin' make y'all bulletproof all of a sudden?" the redhead cut him off with a questioning frown, one that swiftly turned to a wry grin as his bravado withered. "'Cause don't get it twisted, feel free to threaten and boast all high and mighty like, but those kids ya want? They _ain't_ here."

She reached up to ruffle my hair, exactly as she used too in that way that I used to squirm and wiggle against... But not now. Not after missing it this much.

"Feel fine and free to push the issue, though. See what it buys y'all. Or y'all can go on yer' way nice and cordial-like." A final dismissive shrug just to twist the knife, as though the trio of dangerous criminals were naught but rambunctious kids poking fingers where they didn't belong. "And things end that way in kind. So what's it gonna be then, boys? 'Crazy,' or 'Cordial?'"

"You damned outsider!? You really think you can talk to us like...!?"

All in all, I didn't know what I'd expected to happen in the second or so it took for the pirate and his fellows to lay hands on their holstered guns, those droids of theirs cycling up to combat readiness.

No... I knew _exactly_ what I thought would happen, and had seen similar sights more than once played out in the Badlands since first stumbling into that blighted region. These people, family though they might be, were hardly saints... They'd warned their mark, and under old 'Hangman' Carson, would've probably seen themselves into a shallow grave by this point by grace of their own bravado.

So quite frankly, the sight of the two misshapen drone's chests, and the internal Dust Batteries sealed within vanished in a hail of shrapnel, sparks, and scattershot from behind rather than a full frontal massacre was hardly surprising.

No. That came from the soul now jabbing the still-smoking barrels of his dual shotgun knives snug to the skulls of Scarface's henchmen before the slain robotic bodyguards had even toppled to either side of the thoroughly abused threshold.

"Yeesh! Gotta love this Moorin' waterin' hole, I swear!" Phineas ' _Shifty_ ' Cornell, right hand man of the Carson Crew and the closest thing to an over-protective uncle I could remember, grinned through the scraggly mess of dark fuzz he called a beard. "Such a mess."

Oil-stained sleeves flexed as he held his rambunctious pieces with the air of one who knew exactly what the chances were his targets could retaliate, and how they would end up if they were stupid enough to do so. The things I knew he could pull with those Dust rounds of his from this range...

"Can't even step out to check the rovers without rats sneakin' in?"

Wilder with a bit more wear, tear, and grey in his hair than last I'd seen him, but the Aura of Carson's second in command still showed through as clear as a sunbeam to my Semblance.

The same man who'd terrorized/raised Ben and I alongside Ma whenever the young Carson's father was either too busy, laid up with injuries, or simply nursing one of his hungover moods. The man who'd taught us both how to handle ourselves in Remnant's premier dust pit with guns and grit. Who'd taught us how to survive by our wits, and a good eye behind the barrel.

Ironic seeing as he could barely shoot worth a damn. A fine reason as any to carry shotguns...

"And yes, I'm talkin' 'boutcha, too, ya little runt!"

I shot him a narrow-eyed pout that left a scowl on the older man's craggy features. One that didn't quite hide the delight in his eyes. A delight that persisted as he turned his attention back to the poor sods left standing in a puddle of sparking servos and lubricant.

"Now then, like my Mama Bear over there said..." He primed the weapons in his hands, drawing out the clicking clamor of the hammers with painful slowness, "what's it gonna be, boys? Crazy or Cordial?"

* * *

-END

* * *

 _ **A/N: And another one down for the count, only took a few weeks given reality and work on other projects.**_

 _ **As for this chapter in particular, Briar managed to lose the precious (potentially dangerous) artifact to a kid of all things. Of course too be fair, he cheated pretty hard. And some of you might remember Ma and Cornell from AMBR:FR as members of Bill Carson's gang, been meaning to bring them back for awhile. Seems after their Boss went to ground, and a port run by criminals is the last place you'd think to find this bunch.**_

 _ **Do appreciate all the support shown and feedback is always appreciated, stuff y'all like and dislike. Things to work on and improve, etc.**_ _ **\- Mojo**_

* * *

 _ **(Next Chapter: Carson preps for the mission ahead.)**_


	30. Chapter 30

**_Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One._**

* * *

SEN-SATIONAL!

* * *

 _ **-Benjamin Carson-**_

 _'Things're always darkest 'fore the dawn...'_

A classic statement of themes stretching back as far as people and a fair amount of popular literature could recall, if in the end simply another way of saying _'Things will get better... **Someday.** '_

Of course, I'd always thought of that sentiment as little more than a fancy excuse, and a hell of a bad one, at that.

If one really wanted things to get better, they couldn't just sit around and wait for the solution to be handed to them. Oh, no, no, no, no, _NO._ They had to look for their opportunity, stand by for the perfect moment, and seize it without hesitation.

 _'Still, a little bit of a break wouldn't hurt, would it? Just a little...?'_ that niggling voice of reason mixed with weakness, traitorous as ever in its pervasive sense, murmured in my ear as my forehead met the chillingly cold stone of a hefty pillar supporting the looming wrought iron gate barring my path.

My destination alight in the distance, the Schnee Manor cut an imposing aspect in the flurry of snowfall whirling about. My knees were shaking from the cold, or at least the flesh and bone one was.

The replacement still felt strange. It wasn't the fiery agony of before, but strange. As far as reminders went, it would serve. And better yet, I wasn't hobbling around anymore, even if stairs still left me cringing for a good deal afterwards.

"...'Scuse me?" I breathed low into the intercom speaker with a calm I certainly didn't feel in the moment, the chill's bit only making it worse. "...I don't think I heard that right. Mind repeatin' what ya just said? Little louder this time, maybe?"

 _"I apologize, Specialist Carson. My orders are quite clear on the matter,"_ a snide voice, certainly not that belonging to Klein Sieben by any stretch of the imagination, issued clearly with barely restrained smugness. One of Jacques' stooges, no doubt, brought in after the Charity debacle, when everything just went North, and things got a whole lot colder.

 _"Under the advisement of President Schnee, his daughter is currently refusing all social calls until her health improves. Her humors are understandably imbalanced with the excitement she caused, on top of her recent positional change within the company."_

In other words, she was grounded, which as likely the reason I'd had to learn about this whole 'abdication of familial inheritance' from the young Ambrose rather than the Princess herself. But of course...

 _"And furthermore, even if this weren't the case, I'm afraid you and your associates are expressly barred from entering the premises in any and all capacity as President Schnee considers you a threat to the Young Lady's well-being. Is that clear enough, sir?"_

It was strange, really. I didn't quite realize I was chuckling to myself until I heard Echo shifting uncomfortably behind me. Cherry stood next to him, muttering darkly in his ear.

Typical... So damned _typical._ Those two had shown up, ostensibly, to aid in any clerical matters that might arise during my visit. Truthfully, Hemlock wanted to keep an eye open, no doubt, on orders from higher up the chain. Be it Ironwood or Winter, I couldn't know.

"Yeah... Yeah, clear as crystal. Even though all that's a steamin' pikel of _Grimm shit!_ " The anger that had been building for awhile, longer than I cared to admit, was finally shaken loose just like everything else these last few downtrodden days. Ironwood's disapproval, a dangerous assignment far beyond what I'd intended... "A 'threat!?' _Really!?_ She's my friend!"

 _"According to the President, such is no longer the case, Specialist Carson. I apol... **Eek!** "_

A warbling yelp issued forth as a metal palm crashed into the decorative pillar with enough force to leave it and the gate shuddering. Stone and sculpted marble powder spilled from between trembling metal digits.

Servos throughout the limb, now extending forth throughout my chest and pectoral, were whirring to life throughout my new... 'additions' in response to both neural and Auratic feedback. My knee, rebuilt with a little Ambrose-brand genius, thrummed as actuators whined with barely-contained energy. Digging a deep furrow into the cold ground, but not so cold as this feeling.

More than one face came to mind in the pillar's place. So many, each oh-so tempting. The studs atop my brow warmed uncomfortably, made all the more apparent in the chill wind.

 _'...Breathe... **Breathe...'**_

 _"S-sir, this is all rather unnecessary! The Lady Weiss doesn't even wish to **speak** with you! I see no reason why...!"_

"No reason!? Yeah, well have the Princess come on down here and say it, then! I can wait!"

So that was how Jacques wanted to play it? Using the embarrassment of his daughter's tantrum as the perfect excuse to strip her from a position of influence and keep the troublesome child contained without any loss of sympathy. Shrewd, expertly played, and it made me want to puke.

"Weiss!? Ya there!? Any relationship-endin' news I need to hear!? _No!?_ Didn't think so!"

 _"Sir, I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to please vacate these premises. Specialist or no, I doubt given the current climate you'd wish for me to contact General Ironwood and lodge a formal complaint, would...?"_

"Nah, nah, that ain't gonna be necessary."

I drew in a deep intake, and calmed, shoulders both flesh and steel rising and falling as I stepped back, the tremor in my prosthetic ceasing, though the tingle in my palm remained. That wouldn't go away. Not now. Not until I truly worked out this tension... But I could hide that easily enough from this grunt.

"Not like I'm gettin' anywhere, anyway. Weiss doesn't even know I'm here, does she?"

There was no reply, at least none from the stooge at any rate.

No, what I got was much worse and would've had me begging for more menials with delusions of grandeur in talking down a Specialist.

 _"No, she doesn't, Carson. And she won't as long as I have any say."_ Jacques Schnee's strict cadence poured from the device, so laden in cool contempt, I was surprised the mechanisms didn't freeze over then and there. My blood certainly did, though, even as my heart beat faster with the same ingrained dislike the Schnee Patriarch shared for me.

 _"You are to cease your relationship, as well as all forms of personal, unwarranted contact with my daughter, effective immediately. You've already proven enough of a poor influence on her as it is. Now it falls to me to salvage what is left..."_

"' _Salvage?_ ' Well, well, ain't that a fancy word for lockin' up your own flesh and blood. Never heard it phrased quite like that before, Jac, I'll admit," I said with no small amount of sarcasm, fingers drumming against my uniform pant leg. " _'Cut all contact...'_ She's my friend. Someone I actually give a damn about. You can't really be expectin' me to give up without her sayin' so, eh? I know we've never seen eye-to-eye, but I'd have thought ya'd know me better than that."

" _I do. It's one of the few things I actually respect about you and your kind. You're tenacious, but also pragmatic, given proper... **incentive.** "_ What did dear ol' dad Bill Carson say about enemies and compliments? Ah, right... Nothing good. _"And from what I understand, your people seem to have found themselves in desperate straits these last few months, not unlike yourself."_

And there it was. The full implication; the offer... Few times had I ever felt _truly_ murderous. _Very_ few, and only to a very few select people. Maybe it was more a measure of my own ineptitude that the vast majority of those people were still alive and lingering over my life.

"...What do you want?"

" _There, the pragmatist. I knew you would understand."_ My terse silence was warning enough of where taunting me would get him, and an invitation to continue to the point. _"Let me be frank. My terms are simple, Carson. I have the means to provide resources to the Badlands before the border closes. I am, of course, referring to combat droids, weapons, supplies... Everything that my company offered to your people and more. All of it on a ship bound to your home by the time of your own departure."_

Cherry had stiffened now, her own disgust warring with that barest glimmer of hope. She understood as well as I did, as her feelings were my own. "Ben?"

"That's...mighty generous of ya," I replied slowly, a false smile on my face as I knew without a doubt the old man was watching me now. I could almost feel that cold blue gaze on me, judging me. Judging what I was... "And of course, as the humanitarian ya claim to be, I imagine all that'll be provided in good faith, right?"

" _Good faith, and your word you'll acquiesce to my demands. Simple, no?"_

So this was the choice, huh? Leave Weiss, my only link to Beacon throughout this whole Atlas mess, in the hands of her father to use as he saw fit, or lose all hope of aiding my fellows in this time of chaos.

Abandon my friend, or abandon my home.

 _"Well? I want to hear you say it."_

"...You know I..."

* * *

"...didn't?"

I glanced up from where needle-like mechanical prongs poked and prodded at the wrist of my prosthetic, each contact eliciting bright-white actinic flash, to face the young Professor currently at work on a sprawling array of monitors and holographic consoles.

Not exactly as easy as one might think. Looking past those spectacles, it was impossible not to see the resemblance between the brothers Ambrose, at least in that small regard. Screens of abstract data and figures streaming across the each, all different, all demanding his genius attentions.

 _'...Different as sin in just about every other way imaginable, but that's uncanny...'_

Blue eyes piercing to the heart just like Psycho, if with the added bonus of an utterly terrifying mind at work. A mind currently trying to process something he evidently found quite unbelievable.

"You didn't actually _agree_ to those terms, did you!? It's practically extortion! No, strike that, it _is_ extortion!"

Jacob tore himself away from the never-ending statistical barrage, expression awash in the low illumination. Apparently, he liked it cramped, the entire space cluttered with discarded sheets of charts and blueprints, monitors and other pieces of technology spaced so that the intriguing intellect could always have an eye on his work even when otherwise occupied.

One of these, a cylindrical dais, lit up with a dull crimson shine that coalesced into a floating mote of similarly-colored sparks.

"Allison, do define extortion for me! I don't think Specialist Carson understands!"

"Aw, c'mon, Specs, ya know I hate it when she...!?"

 _"Extortion: Noun. Definition: The practice of obtaining something, especially money, through force or threats."_ the devilish little computer recited in a monotone facilely of speech, as though she... It... She...? As if the AI were speaking with a child. _"Have you been illuminated, Specialist Carson?"_

Couldn't help but shiver at that. By the gods, it was still unsettling to converse to the sentient machine. A feeling that certainly hadn't faded with familiarity. If anything it'd only increased. "... _Yes,_ Allison. Thank you. You can stop talkin' now... Please?"

"Schnee threatened to cut off your people unless you disavowed his daughter, and unlike most, actually has the power to see it done. How is that in any way appropriate!?" Ambrose shook his head, fingers clattering away like automatic weapons across the keys. "Madness... And you're just going along with it? Just like that!?"

"Promised him, didn't I?" I eased back into my position on the table, biting my lip at a particularly uncomfortable nerve spasm as the machines resumed their calibrations. Just another facet of the life I'd signed up for. A necessary sacrifice, among others... "The Princess'll be just fine. 'Sides, it'll give me time to focus on the mission comin' up." I tried to ignore the momentary stutter in the other man's work, the slightest huff of judgement. "A trip to the Frontier. Good ol' fashioned rescue mission... _Heh_ , sounds almost contrived, don't it?"

"Ridiculous, really. You knew my brother for barely a few months, and encountered a few Trappers. Now, suddenly, you're deemed fit to travel to one of the harshest environs on the face of Remnant?... Yes, it is a _little_ contrived." Well, when he phrases it like that... "Ironwood is getting rid of you, Carson. Or at the very least judges losing you as an acceptable risk. An excuse to write both you and Altrosa off in one fell swoop!"

I shot the boy wonder a churlish grin, replete with all the Badlands-born charm I could muster, utterly wasted on the youth. "Aw, _now_ who's gettin' paranoid? Never woulda thought you'd be the one throwin' 'round little conspiracy theories when we first met. Usually that's my job, ain't it?"

"Things weren't quite so dire as they were then, if you haven't noticed!"

I chuckled, waving off my flesh hand languidly at him, glad to feel the feeling in my right side returning, even if it wasn't wholly comfortable to experience " _Aaaah_...That's what I like aboutcha, Ambrose. Always the beacon of sunshine just rarin' to light up my...!"

" _Take this seriously, Carson!_ "

The whole lab seemed to blink a vivid red at the youth's rage, my mind suddenly very much taken up with the miniature lasers humming so close to my person.

"Paranoia or not, it's still incredibly dangerous, and almost certainly doomed to fail. It's been weeks since contact was lost with Altrosa's fleet elements. The chances of him being alive, let alone finding him at all by this point, are practically negligible!"

'Negligible.' Not exactly a word to be used lightly around a kid that habitually measured his days down to the millisecond to maximize efficiency. Of course...

"I wouldn't be so quick to write either of us off just yet. Bad odds are the sorta thing Specialists were trained to handle after all, right?" Not that he was looking any more convinced going by what I could see. It still needed to be said. It wasn't as though such words weren't for my benefit as much as his. "Dangerous Frontier, bloodthirsty inhabitants, ancient Grimm... Pheh. I'm still bettin' we track the pinky-haired bastard down only to find he's gone native. Maybe made himself a little harem. At least that's the popular bet floatin' round."

"Hmph, rather unlikely. You all have no idea what you're getting yourselves into."

Well, not like that wasn't true. Only things they had to go on were a few decades-old maps that the Professor had dismissed as outdated at a glance, a vague travel plan from Altrosa's expedition, and a few weeks of a cold trail left to follow.

"Which is why I'm coming with you."

Right, that made...

"Uh... What!?" I propped myself up, much to the squealing displeasure of the delicate armatures trying to follow my arm with the motion. "Don't think I, uh... heard ya right there, Ambrose. Mind runnin' that by me again?"

"I'm coming with you, obviously," the Professor said with dismissive ease, as though he weren't volunteering for what was very likely a one-way trip. "It makes logical sense. Who better than a Frontiersman to guide you through the Frontier? With my knowledge of local environs and culture, your chances of success improve markedly. A fully thirty-seven point two-seven percent, in fact."

"Oh? And, uh... what were they before you... y'know?"

"Low enough you don't want me to answer that."

I'd meant the question as a joke, 'cause that's what this had to be, right? But going by the look on his face and his general lack of a sense of humor...

"I will be making the proper arrangements. With Allison's aid, I should have no trouble settling matters before our departure."

"Oh hell, you... Y-you're _serious?_ " I stammered back, caught off guard by this unexpected addition of another tag along to an already dangerous assignment. I mean, I'd come in for a last minute tune up, and now I was leaving with... "And Ironwood... The General, he'd be alright with this? With his rising star venturin' off to parts unknown, with a... Well, you know our odds better than I do it seems."

The younger man shrugged his broad shoulders, reaching up to remove his glasses, and rub at sore bloodshot eyes. A personal habit, I'd determined, seeing as the lenses of his glasses were merely screens for more data to parse through on a daily basis on top of those in front of him.

Taking them off and easing off the typing were probably the few moments he had to relax that big brain of his. Sad, really...

"No, he probably won't be. Not that he has much choice in the matter. I'm not enlisted in any true capacity, given my age, and as a recognized Atlesian citizen, you are well within your right to deputize me as another asset in completing your mission if you so choose. Similar to this Edward Laura fellow."

He afforded a rare smile, one that was so alike his older brother's, I actually had to do a double take.

"That, and I have my own wellspring of dirty little secrets ready and waiting for the Kingdom's adoring public, your mission in the Badlands only the tip of the proverbial glacier. I'm certain we can agree to certain restrictions in the case of capture. And I'll be leaving my designs, of course."

"Uh... _Damn,_ Specs... I don't think I've ever seen this side of you before."

I was grinning, too. How could I not be? I'd been too long without that trademark Ambrose daring and stubbornness. More than I'd even realized. And this kid wasn't just playing around...

"Always struck me as the more orderly type, not that I'm not happy to oblige ya."

And with that, the matter was good as settled, at least as far as I knew when it came to what one of his relatives could do when roused...

Whereas I was at least able to play off a cheerful, dull-witted exterior, he never obfuscated. Never bothered to hide what he thought of you, or how far he thought beyond you. Thing is, he'd been something of a friend to Reika, or so he claimed. Not to mention he was my friend's brother, which in my book made him as good as family. Family that knew the ins and outs of where my people were bound, at least in theory, and a tenacity that had seen him surviving the fiasco at Beacon where plenty of others hadn't. Still, though...

"I don't like being contained by walls and system frameworks, Carson. I endured enough of that as a child. Now I choose which paths I follow."

He didn't elaborate, and I didn't press as the tiny machines went about their diligent work, leaving the two of us in silence but for their whirring and his renewed key-clattering. Sputtering micro-welders and forceps reassembled the outer shell of my arm in what seemed like no time at all.

A disconcerting experience, and not one I'd ever think I'd get used to, let alone recommend.

It was at the end, however, as a green-tinged alert chimed a cheerful affirmative, and I felt the slab rising did he speak again. It caught me off guard, which was not a fun experience with a bunch of multi-armed, bladed appendages still settling overhead. "What are your _real_ plans for Weiss Schnee, Carson?"

The question wasn't unexpected, though I affected the standard expected amount of surprise. I'd grown up swindling at Fool's Gambit throughout every province of the Badlands. This was child's play.

"What's it to ya?"

"You wouldn't abandon her... What's your angle? Tell me that, at least, if I'm expected to go die with you on this glorified suicide run. You _do_ have a plan, I assume?"

"Ambrose, I _always_ have a plan, even if they ain't always the best. It's a gift... Or a curse. You're part of the crew now, so that'll be up to you to decide, I reckon. Think that one's split pretty evenly."

I tapped the side of my head with a metal digit as I threw my uniform jacket on, already bracing for the cold march to the idling Bullhead that would take me back to my waiting ship, and the mountains of paperwork left to fill out before she could take to the skies once more.

"Honestly, though? The Princess could probably do better with a little change in scenery. But like I said, I've got nothin' more to do with her. Her life's her own."

"...And this 'change in scenery...' You'd have no idea when or how that's going to take place?"

"Not a one," I said smugly, keying my way out of the lab, looking back to give the young genius one final wink. I paused for but a moment when I saw something flicker across the screen to his left. A ghost image of something that couldn't be... Could it?

"But hey, sometimes these things have a habit of workin' themselves out, don'tcha think?"

* * *

 _ **-Jacob Ambrose-**_

 _'Not really, but if you say so...'_

I sighed, pouring over the last of the data readouts regarding Carson's prosthetic components out of one eye lens as I snapped another case shut, distracting myself from packing for what even I could only guess was a glorified suicide mission.

It'd been so long since I last had to go... _anywhere,_ really. Beacon had been for a few weeks, I supposed, but that had been for work, everything provided.

This felt markedly different, similar to that first harrowing journey beyond the Frontier's borders all those years ago. Slumming with foul-smelling guides, pompous dignitaries, and negotiating with Mooring pirate scum.

In contrast to reliving such chilling reality, comparing calculations from previous tests dated all the way back to Beacon months earlier was a breeze.

The results were nothing short of phenomenal, the Aura-based operation of the prototype being a remarkable step ahead, but prone to bouts of finicky operation during key moments of extreme emotion or stress. In contrast, the pure neural route employed by the General had its benefits, but lacked a sort of acclimation factor.

Thus, combining the two had been an inspired stroke of...

" _Professor_?"

I paused, startled out of my wayward fantasizing as a cheery, upbeat vocal emulation poured through the mounted speakers of the room.

Each of the various screens across the wall brightened from a dull ochre red, or simply powering to activation spontaneously... No, not spontaneously, I corrected myself with a small frown. There was a force here, and an exasperating one at times...

" _Professor Ambrose, can you hear me_?"

"Yes, Penny, I'm listening?"

Rolling my shoulders, I resumed my activity, knowing fully well it would be fruitless to search for a face, or adhere to any such social cue in the conversation to come.

It was something many might have considered rude, but was in fact a common mistake when people first encounter Artificial Intelligence, like those holographic avatars that had once monitored the CCT designed simply to make their organic users feel more comfortable. AI had little concept of such things.

"What is it?"

What many failed to realize is that often times what they're seeing is rarely a representation of what the AI is truly focused upon. And to think to demand their full attention was both silly and crude in the basest sense.

At the CCT, for example, those pixel-driven husks staring back at you with a smile are already examining you from every conceivable angle.

Utilizing predictive analysis to guess at where and to whom you might be calling through things as simple as your Scroll's data and social media presences. Reading mood through temperature and other embedded means to judge the possible contents of the communication. Figuring out where you will be seated in the vast space, and whether a private booth would be required for more personal discussions.

Dozens, if not hundreds or even thousands of determinations all performed with responses readied in the time it takes for a human to say 'Um...'.

Humans and Faunus - mankind in general - had to be so painfully slow to their enhanced perceptions.

And this isn't even factoring corporate needs and other such determinations all done for the benefit of the users. And those CCT Communications programs were among the most basic, AI like Allison far outstripping them in almost all forms of operating capacity, while something... _someone_ like Penny Polendina able to display a full spectrum emotional range wasn't even in the same Kingdom as that minuscule ballpark.

 _'To have come so far in so short a time frame...'_ Last I'd checked, she had still been secure in her partitioned server. Several miles away...

" _Specialist Benjamin Carson was here again. I enjoy his visits."_ So, it seems she'd gotten bored again. No wonder Allison had gone quiet. She was probably feeling guilty for not stopping her. _"He's exactly like I... How **she** remembers him."_

"He would be. People don't change. Not really." I opened my desk and hesitated, drawing out a small faded photograph of three youths standing before one of the many drab stone fountains that highlighted many of the plaza's within Bastion's richer interiors. "It's a limitation of ours."

Two boys. Obviously brothers, though different as could be in temperament. And a girl with pink eyes and glasses squeezed between them.

An old thing; an obsolete luxury I'd carried from home. One of several I kept around rather than digitizing them, as though giving them to a Scroll would ruin the memory, sanitize it.

Joel... He'd paid a hefty sum to get that Kingdom charlatan to snap a picture of us, even though I'd told him again and again I could do the same, only better.

We'd fought about it, and Natalie... Natalie had laughed... Then she'd hugged Joel...

 _"Are you feeling unwell, Professor? Your heart rate is palpitating rather acutely."_ I cursed inwardly, shoving the photo carelessly into a haphazard pile of clothes I'd already stuffed inside, knowing fully well the AI would notice. She was simply being polite. " _Should I notify your aides...?"_

"You know you're supposed to ask before wandering the mainframe, especially on your own. It could be dangerous," I said unnecessarily, cutting off the request at the head. And it _was_ unnecessary. Nothing Atlas had would hold a candle to what she could do now. More the Professor was worried about what she might stumble across accidentally. Showing her the end results of her... Of the last model's tournament bout with Pyrrha Nikos had been difficult enough. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

" _Professor Ambrose, you appear to be storing supplies._ " I glanced down at the suitcase, and then at the closest monitor, an image crackling to life. A rendering of the previous models upper body, complete with that smile I remembered. " _Are you going on a trip?_ "

"Something like that. I suppose you heard some of what was said?" A fervent denial, followed just as swiftly by a light hiccup that had me grinning again. "I shouldn't be gone for too long, hopefully. If things go well."

A fat chance of that, the calculus too depressing to dwell on.

"I've left a base copy of Allison on file in my lab to keep you company and support the Professor. Don't want to leave you alone for _too_ long, especially if you're going to be breaking the rules like this."

I made sure the camera could see my face, context and sarcasm being a bit of a difficulty with her these last few weeks. I didn't want to leave the AI feeling as though I was leaving mad at her.

 _"Is this a good idea?"_ The avatar frowned, cocking her head. A learned expression of curiosity. At least she'd been studying. I'd been worried..

Well, suffice it to say I hadn't been expecting the question however, and it showed. A full ten seconds passed before I could think to formulate a reply. A millennia to leave a mind like hers waiting. Now _that_ was me being rude.

"No, probably not. Though chances are good Carson will encounter a local presence. I can translate..."

 _"Allison can translate, can't she?"_ the AI interrupted, flinching as much as a machined intelligence could when she noticed my frown. _"Apologies, I shouldn't have interrupted."_

"No, you shouldn't have, but you're eager and correct. She could have translated just fine." I hesitated again. A poor habit nowadays. "I need to be there. I need to see my homeland again. I want to talk to them, and try and understand the kind of madness that would possess them to commit the acts they have so far. Why I appear to be the last sane one of them... if not among them. An emotional response."

 _"Does that include the photo you were viewing before your heart rate increased? One of you and others?"_

"Yes, I suppose it does, for differing reasons. My older brother... and a dear friend. You would know of him. Joel?" The avatar nodded emphatically, showing as much excitement as she had whenever the subject of Ruby Rose came up.

I had to wonder at the odds. That one of her first friends... One of the previous model's, would have been _him,_ of all people, in the middle of a city. I'd tried to reason a possible figure, accounting for familiarity with me beforehand and a possible commonality between us I couldn't fathom, or perhaps a reaction to his Semblance...

"I want this."

It was a curious admission, one I couldn't quite understand myself. It made no logical sense. It was as dangerous as anything I'd ever heard of, and would only likely disappoint me as had anything else having to do with the subject of Rowan's Frontier.

But it was the truth, that much I was certain of.

"I wish to do this. I _choose_ to do this."

 _"Can I come with you, then?"_ Polendina must have seen my incredulity. She didn't bother waiting for an answer this time, and leapt immediately to justification. " _I want to protect you, or at least try to help you. It's my duty, as a 'friend'... or so I would define acting as one by prior observation. 'Aiding in troubling circumstances. Providing comfort despite one's own limitations, and what challenges or inconvenience it would present...' Am I incorrect?"_

"N-no, no, I don't believe you are in a way, Penny," I replied, wondering at the madness of the consideration. Weighing the possibilities of all that could go wrong, and already, to my own surprise, considering the pros and cons... All before coming to a simple but quite surprising conclusion. At least as far as I could consider it a conclusion.

It _was_ a mad conclusion, all things considered. One I would never have entertained if not for the events of months before... Changes I'd noticed in myself despite my own prior statement to the contrary.

A conclusion born of curiosity...

Giving it voice, though? That I had to take a moment to ponder... Long enough for what was perhaps Remnant's most desperate attempt at two terrible genius's desire to rectify a terrible tragedy to take notice, and formulate and give voice to her concern.

 _"Professor Ambrose, is everything alright?"_

"...You know what Penny? That might not be such a bad idea, now that you mention it."

It most assuredly was... at least going by the logic of it. It would almost certainly present no end of trouble on my end. And yet, strangely enough...it could be done, if in a limited fashion.

"Let me... Let me get back to you. Initiate Fallback procedure and await further developments."

 _"SEN-SATIONAL!"_

Somehow that word, in _her_ voice, had never sounded quite so sweet... though it did leave me with a mild case of tinnitus after said exclamation of simulated glee accidentally blew out every sub-woofer in the lab, and sent a thrill of feedback echoing throughout the confined space.

All in all, well worth...

* * *

 ** _-Kazuki Amaranth_** ** _-_**

"...it worked! I can't believe it!"

It was hard enough to hold back my grinning delight, though the sloshing-sucking sound of nearing boot falls did provide a bit of motivation as I quickly stifled my mouth with my sleeve. Listening to the gait of the steps as I'd learned to, marking them out as plodding and awkward.

 _'...Not one of the Frontier's giants then. ***Phew*...** '_

Either way, sense and caution had to be observed, body shifting to carefully ease down deeper into the dirt and muck that floored the crawlspace underneath this particular dwelling. The bulk of the living space raised up like so many others in Misshu on stout stilts and floored with bamboo chutes to keep the occupants out of the ever-constant marsh.

It wasn't exactly the most luxurious little hideaway I'd picked up since stumbling into this little sty of a town, but so long as I kept my head raised above the worst of the slurry, or shift into too many awkward positions and get myself stuck, I'd be just fine and scot-free... if a bit chilly afterwards, and picking sludge out of my tail for a week. Then there was the sore ache from the straight hour of doubling back, running, and the hiding... _Lots_ of hiding.

Nothing like trying to fit your way into a crevasse to remind a person they weren't so small as they used to be. Bummer.

Still, it was well worth the discomfort and inconvenience for the knobby jingling shifting mass of creaking plastic and clinking metal pressing reassuringly up into my chest... Another successful haul courtesy of the oh-so generous townsfolk. Maybe even enough to persuade a few of the less scrupulous merchants to part with a bit of grub in return for some, uh... 'misappropriated' funds and exotic knick-knacks. My payment from an adoring audience, at least that was what I told myself.

And so much all at once. Better than any haul I could've gotten my paws on by more conventional methods, in so short a time, too! Payment from cheapskate humans for a lovely performance, if I did say so myself. Besides, it was their fault for expecting a free show after all.

 _'The magic worked. It actually really **worked!** '_

Better than I could have ever dreamed possible! The possibilities: warm food, a warm bed, maybe even a warm seat on the next convoy out of this sty, and off to somewhere where the world hadn't turned upside down.

Red Hand, Frontier, heck even the Kingdoms. Forget em' all! Someplace decent... It was all possible with that brilliant little beauty slung over my shoulder. Someplace safe with Huntsmen and Huntresses that made sense...

"Yeah, I can do this. I can really do this. _Ha!_ Piece of cake, and with a heft cherry on top to boot, _ahhhh-ha!"_

Pushing aside mounds of dank sodden mud, I was careful to keep the supremely precious weight slung across the small of my back from the worst of the mess, gingerly scooting up and out through the darkness, and into the fading twilight beyond.

The sounds of popping joints and hissing groans as the cramps worked themselves loose filled the dingy, strewn side alley I'd reappeared in. The faltering sunlight cast long shadows along the pitted walls through an overhanging, sluice-filled gutter choked and threatening to crumple under the weight of dried leaves and rotting wood, slime forming stinking puddles in the muddy slush...

A dump, but it was _my_ dump.

 _'...For the moment at least, like Mama says. "Ever onward to bigger and better things!" She's gonna be so... She'd have been so...?'_

The sly smile flickered, and a stinging heat threatened my eyes, memory catching up with reality as I looked about at what quite literally was all I had. At least all I had for now ever since I _... was drifting back, back to the village... The bell's frantic claxon waking me up moments before Mama had burst into the room in a panic...The searing warmth of the fires streaming from all around us and the shapes of shadows sprinted back and forth, jumping on each other... The Huntsman screamed at people to find shelter before the shadows got him, too... Mama's grip relaxed as she threw me down into the cellar, and that last smile that turned to a scream as something big and hairy dragged her away moments before the doors clattered together, locked shut..._

...All I had was that dusty fiddle that had been the first thing I'd wasted time grabbing. That stupid, _stupid_ fiddle!

If I'd only known what it could do beforehand, then maybe I could have...

"Stupid Grimm. Stupid Savages! Stupid Bandits!... Stupid Huntsmen...!" I shook out my head furiously, hand reaching for drawstring strap at my shoulder, only to vanish underneath my shirt, carefully withdrawing the clinking burlap sack that lay within. My ticket to better things, especially...

"Aaaaah, nice!"

Pushing past the scuffed Lien cards and jingling bits of cheap jewelry, I took hold and brought out the strange, silvery-blue ridged cylinder I'd picked off that one girl with the pretty eyes, wrapped up arms, and fake face.

About the length of my forearm and surprisingly heavy, forged with a type of metal I vaguely recognized, though I couldn't quite place where, and positively thrumming with a potent... _something_ that made my fingers tickle just holding it.

And then, of course, the centerpiece set near one edge. A diamond-shaped crystal inset a bit smaller than my palm that glowed a dull, pulsing white, with flowing veins of verdant blue shot through with impressions of crimson that seemed to dance and writhe in the dimming sunlight.

A sort of Dust, maybe? Abnormally grown? I'd heard about that sorta thing from an old codger that swore he'd used to work for the Schnee Dust Company. Naturally grown rather than mass produced, but that still didn't seem quite right. Not really.

"Huh... Wonder what you're supposed to be?" I said blithely, glancing down one end of the casing and trying to work the latch on what looked to be a switch of some kind. The thing not budging an inch. " _Rrgh..._ Bit much for a paperweight. Come on, you little...! _Gah_!"

Not that it mattered. It had still been irresistible, even if it did break my little self-imposed rules. Nothing too valuable, and nothing that would attract too much notice from the wrong sorts of people. Guards, I could outsmart all day, but if someone like that Trapper came out in force...

But, I mean, it'd been right there when I'd brushed up to that crazy girl, the weird one that had seemed so out of it from the get-go.

Even more so than I'd come to expect when the magic was taking effect. In fact, that one had rubbed me the wrong way from the moment I saw her. Something about the way she moved and looked, not to mention how she acted.

Usually, most people I'd tried it on just fell out of sorts, or grew less stuck up when I played, similar to the men back in the village had whenever they drank too much. Nothing like the lulling glazed look she'd had, or the wild, jerking stutter when I'd picked things up an octave. In fact, the only things that I'd ever seen react so strongly to the magic had been the animals I'd seen through the woods. Them and the Gri...!?

"* _AHEM*!_ "

Cursing and fumbling wildly with the silver prize, the burlap sack and the rest of my goodies spilled into the mud at my feet, I spun about, hair standing on end. My eyes widened at the sight of a figure leaning casually with her back against the gutter's downspout, kicking at a loose pile of rubbish. A very _familiar_ figure sporting vivid green eyes, and a nasty smirk that made me want to curl up back in the crawlspace for a week.

The injured human from before...

"Careful with that now, Stray. You're lucky the thing's normie-proofed, or you'd have just speared yourself. And that'd have been awkward to explain. Funny, but awkward."

"Y-you!" I stammered, eyes darting about wildly on feral instinct in search of escape, the crawlspace too far away, and too small to squeeze into quickly. My heart plummeted all the further when I realized that I had a gnarled fence at my back, and no other options.

A stupid mistake. A stupid, _stupid_ mistake, but it wasn't the end of the world. So I straightened up, coughed, and narrowed my eyes in my best attempt to look threatening, chest puffed out and tail straight.

"You. I remember you. From that little show earlier, right? Must've liked it a bunch, 'specially if you followed me all the way out here."

I raised my arms, gesturing to the hovels and such that lined the walls of the settlement, the places where the trash and such got pushed out from the middle. Apparently, it was similar in the Frontier, their capitol, 'Bastard,' or something like that... Definitely not a place for girl like...

Okay, scratch that. This human looked exactly like she belonged here. Something about how still she stood, like a spring wound to burst...

 _'...How the heck did she track me!?...'_ I'd been careful as ever, doubling back half a dozen times to avoid patrols, sitting pretty in the muck and snow.

"Did you want an autograph? An encore? 'Cause sorry to disappoint, Beautiful, but if I put myself out for one person, then I've gotta do it for everyo... _H-hey!_ " She was laughing, the husky sort of giggle that should've sounded endearing, but definitely didn't. "W-what's so funny!?"

"You, kid. Can't you tell? By the gods, this is rich. You're really just a punk stray."

I bristled at the condescending barb, ready to make a go at sprinting past her.

Should've been easy enough, given the state of her, stained bandages peaking out from the depths of her coat.

The pretty dupe was talking tough, just like every other human. She had to be. Only problem was my legs wouldn't seem to listen, shaking every time I tried to the point I was barely managing to keep myself upright, my chest feeling weirdly tight...

A feeling - an instinctive _something_ \- that on some level conveyed that it would be the wrong move to try and run, though for the life of me I couldn't fathom exactly why. Like trying to work up the nerve jump a gorge. Bad idea all around for little pay off.

"B-back off! I-I don't give refunds!" Her eyes widened only slightly as I brought the silvery paperweight up in both hands, deep breaths of cool air burning at my lungs. "Look, I don't want to hurt anyone! Just... Just leave!

"Hmm? Adorable, and a smart mouth, too. Kinda reminds me of someone else I knew. Liked to take things that didn't belong to him, same as you. Bit of 'bandit,' actually." She cocked her head in a way that probably should have been attractive, endearing... And it proved neither of those things. Not one bit. "Stabbed and sent him off a cliff. Good times. And he didn't run me around a gods-forsaken backwater in the offing. That's where you're at."

"Leave! S-start walking, Human!"

"No."

"Yeah, that's... W-wha!?"

I started, lowering my arms a fraction in sheer bewilderment at how matter a fact the refusal was. No counter threats, no shouting back... Gods, she wasn't even looking my way, staring up at the gutter as though contemplating something profound.

"No. That piece you're holding? See, I need that. And I'm curious, besides. What you did to me, to all those people. That's one hell of a Semblance you've got there, Stray. Or do you go by 'Kazuki?' 'Kazu?' 'Kaz?' Been awhile since I've dealt with kids..."

"Semblance!? What're you...!? Wait!? How do you know my name!? I-I mean _that_ name!" Alright, impromptu weapon was back up, and I took a careful step forward, feeling the hairs on my tail standing on end in sudden anger, and more than a share of terror. " _Talk!_ "

"Little Faunus brat with distinguishing features. Wasn't too hard to find people who've seen you around here and there. Especially seeing as you're apparently the only animal still hanging around these parts." The human sighed, standing up straight, and stretching with a long groan, wincing only a little as her shoulders rolled. "Slipped up with that old lady running the produce stall. Probably from before you first skirted into town and wised up. Nice little kitten helped her out unloading her stock for a few lien chits and a few bushels. Introduced himself and everything. Played the nicest music, said his name was..." She trailed off, evidently expecting me to get the point from there.

And I did. Thing is, I was just stunned at the way her voice changed when she spoke of that merchant.

Fluently changing tone and timbre until it was nigh-unrecognizable, only I did know it. Remembering the old biddy she spoke of, how I'd been starving and desperate for whatever I could scrounge, ready to pounce. She'd caught me, and instead of yelling for the guards... She'd spoken to me kindly, in the same way this girl was doing now.

Creepy... And from the sounds of it, she'd learned all this in just a few hours. Creepier... and _scarier._

"So what was it? Grimm? Bandits? You clearly weren't born here, or more people would know you, wouldn't they? And the only Faunus that lived here all were asked 'politely' to pack up and leave for wherever weeks ago. So what happened? Is it why you unlocked your...?"

" _Shut up!_ " I cried out, unable to stop myself, shrinking back from the sudden glare I received. Those green eyes flashing into almost reptilian slits. "S-shut up! You... Y-you don't know me! And I don't owe you anything! All this!" I kicked at the back lightly, careful not to spill any more of the contents. "This is mine! I snagged it! Finders keepers!"

 _'...Wait a sec, the magic...!'_ I had a way out. I _always_ had a way out!

"Well, I found you, so what does that mean? You're my problem?" She frowned as I dropped the silver cylinder, and undid the strap tied tight across my chest, drawing both bow and fiddle into hand with practiced ease. "Hmm, so you actually do need that old piece of junk? Weird."

" _Pfft!_ Look who's talking, Human!" I spat back, more than a little prideful and defensive of my old battered piece of junk. "This little beauty's magic had you dancing like a right fool earlier! What'd you say to an encore after all, eh!?"

"Magic? You mean 'Aura' and a 'Semblance', little man?" she said, raising a thin eyebrow. "Maybe it's a pitch thing? No wonder it hit me harder. And with my Aura the way it is... Ah, that's it." Nodding to herself, the woman curled and uncurled her leg idly, at least until I started hearing a wet creaking noise, like sodden rope being stretched and loosened. "Damn, annoying."

Gritting my teeth, I brought bow to string, managing a single draw as I felt the usual warmth well up inside my chest, the magic taking hold. My target moved to run... No, she didn't run, but her leg _did_ move.

With a splintering _*CRUNCH,*_ the support beam she'd been leaning against shattered clean under heel. The inexorable grind of protesting metal sheeting and wooden slats signaled the complete collapse of the gutter system under the weight of snow and slush, leaving me just enough time to gape and make a leap for the alley entrance where the perpetrator stood before I was suddenly pinned under the chilling weight of half a rooftop's worth of detritus bearing down on my back.

Head spinning, pinned from the waist down with the silver cylinder and my fiddle just beyond arm's reach, I lay face first in the mud just as I had in the crevasse beneath the house. Only this time there was far more light, far less air reaching my lungs, with an ache of something fierce in my tail as it snagged, and a human murderess knowing exactly where I was as she took her sweet time in approaching.

A Grimm closing on her prey.

 _"Ah heck, she's enjoying this!?'_

I quivered, suddenly feeling her presence as not just some cold shiver, but a palpable blanket of chilling malice that made my guts squirm. Sense screamed at me to run, to get far away, to scramble and bite my way free however it took... And then as quickly as it had come the pressure eased. Suddenly, she seemed so... so kind, like my mom sporting a hot tray of cookies and a smile just as warm...

It felt wrong, disjointed from reality and unnatural, but some small part of me clung to it even as she toed the fiddle further from reach before kicking the cylinder up into a trembling hand. "Nice try kid, but a bit faster on the draw next time. Especially when the one you're threatening doesn't seem to give a damn." Biting her lip, she tucked the cylinder back into her coat and turned to leave, hesitating at the last moment before peeking back down at me, lying helpless and squirming.

An expression I'd come to know very well writ across her face. The look of one appraising the worth of an object. I'd seen it on merchants, other neer-do-wells, smugglers... The sorts of folks Mom would've been mortified to know I'd fallen in with. Angry tears prickled at the corners of my eyes.

"Well!? What're you waitin' for!?" The words spilled from me with a breathless cough as the pile shifted, the woman seemingly surprised by the outburst for some odd reason. Like she'd been expecting meek and scared. Well forget her! "Go on! You got your toy back, Human! What, you gonna skin me now!? Run and grab the Reds!? _Ptoo!_... Might as well be merciful and do me in yourself! better than anything that Trapper bastard'll probably pull!"

"What, stick you behind bars, slap on the wrist? Probably the worst that fake could manage. Didn't strike me as the type to mess with kids." I let my mouth run, struggling with an intake of air that caught in my throat, dumbfounded by the half-hearted attempt at a shrug. "'Course, then you're useless to me. Or worse, he figures out what you can do, and flags you for something or somebody really nasty. That 'Magic' you've got? Bet you'd be a real prize to somebody, even with the tail. And then there's the issue of having to talk with him again, and I've had enough comedy for one day."

"Useless?" I'd been called a lot of things, both back home and since scurrying my way into these human-centric walls. 'Animal.' 'freak,' 'punk,' 'stray,' 'thief.' Of course... But somehow 'useless' had never been on the list, however.

"W-what're you talking about!? Who...!?"

"No, no, Stray. Kazu. Whatever you wanna be called. No talking, just listening... _Veeeeery_ closely."

She smiled, the way her lips curled setting a tremor of thrill unbidden through my chest, or maybe that was just the blood returning as she kicked at the pile and the weight, adjusting it to merely uncomfortable rather than smothering. I did shut up, though, mouth clapped tight in the foul-smelling sludge.

"Good boy! Now then, you may or may not have guessed that I'm somewhat new in town. And luckily for you, I'm currently in the market for some help. Temporarily, of course. You might've noticed I'm not exactly at peak condition." She waved a bandaged arm, the jerking stuttering motions vaguely uncomfortable to witness, as was the sudden rise in temperature as her limb neared my face, static prickling at my hair. "Need help with the little things here and there. Cooking meals, changing bandages, providing a place to sleep, keeping an ear out. All stuff I'm certain you should be able to manage. You big, strong Mistrali country boys. Supposed to be all independent. That, and I'm guessing most of these Red Hand types wouldn't give a damn what you say one way or another. Bit of a safe bet you won't go to them for help."

She nodded, silently giving me permission to speak, which I did. Quite bluntly too. " _Aaaaaand_ if I say no? What then, nutcase? I scamper, vanish, _poof!_ "

"Why, so glad you asked!" she replied cheerily, getting down on one knee so that her face was maybe a hands length from my own. That delightful warmth she exuded sharpened to an ice pick that speared my chest and froze the air in my lungs to solid blocks scented with a floral fragrance that tickled my nostrils. "I figured out who you are, and guessed more than enough to track you down in... let's say a few hours, give or take. And that was with nothing to go on. Now seeing as you're penned up in this swamp box of a town same as I am, let's be clear on the pecking order."

She leaned in, bandaged fingers settling on my forehead, the skin prickling as though it were next to an open fire.

"You're in here with me, Little Kitten. And if you try and make a fool of me again with that little 'magic' trick of yours and hesitate again, I'll find you. Have no doubts of that swimming around in that little smart-mouthed head of yours." A trembling hand wrapped in bandages rose to press lightly against my forehead, the skin fiercely cold. Far more than it should've been. "And then..." She lowered her voice to a cold whisper, the sound taking on an aspect of what I imagined a Grimm might sound like, had it the incentive to speak. "...then I'll show you what a _real_ Trapper can do when a dirty little stray treads all over her last nerve. Hear me?"

" _...!?_ " I opened my mouth. Whether to scream or beg or whatever, it didn't matter. Nothing came out. Just dry air and a piteous whine that drew a smile that looked far too feral for any human.

"There we go! See?... Isn't it just grand when we strive to understand one another?"

* * *

-END

* * *

 **-OC Voice Cast Introduced this Chapter-**

Kazuki Amaranth - Brianne Siddall

* * *

 _ **A/N: What's up everyone, another chapter down. Ben's moving things along and even got himself yet another new ally, maybe even two. And he's not the only one, Briar also picked up another stray while Joel's crossing his mental hangups and the like.**_

 _ **In other news I'm going to be taking a bit of a break to catch up on other projects and hopefully get ahead on a few things with this story. Sorry for the inconvenience. Hope to be updating again soon.**_

* * *

 _ **(Next Chapter: Danger around the corner)**_


	31. Chapter 31

**_Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One._**

* * *

BEST LAID PLANS

* * *

 _ **-Weiss Schnee-**_

 _"Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable."_

A long steadying breath fled from my lips, released just as I had been taught in time with _Myrtenaster's_ flowing motions. Conducting the action, one foot in front of the other, guiding stance and controlling tempo...

 _"Do you have any idea what your stunt cost us?"_

Father's voice cut through the focus as it had every time before, almost putting me out of step, out of line with my intentions. That couldn't happen. Not again. My Semblance required concentration as much as it did emotion; a delicate balance as delicate as a snowflake. Light began to pulse as an intricate glyph appeared in the cleared space at my feet, the hard floor creaking lightly as ice and moisture began to glisten across its surface.

I'd lost that balance in the gala room, that dolt reminding me of Neptune, but without the foolish charm. That foul woman's naive criticisms... Without the intervention of Benjamin's people, I might have been responsible for...

 _"Young lady, I don't give a **damn** about what you want! This isn't about you. This is about the Schnee family name, and your apparent insistence on dragging it through the mud! Stringing along that worthless, over-glorified bandit for the masses was one thing, but this...!?"_

Ben's horrified visage as he watched me being pulled from the room forced another misstep, his bodyguard Fullmark holding him at bay. The glyph faltered as it began to spin faster and faster, the air growing steadily colder as the temperature dropped, a creeping chill making itself felt across the walls. Goose flesh prickled at my chest and face... but I ignored it all, focusing on the intent of the actions I undertook, the processes, what was required...

This was my burden. _My_ power... And it was _mine_ to command!

 _"...Don't worry, Weiss. The Schnee family name is in good hands..."_

Scowling despite myself, I turned _Myrtenaster_ end over end and brought the blade down, stopping mere centimeters from the floor. The brilliant flash of the glyph in response to the motion was blinding with its intensity, leaving me blinking aside blue spots from my vision for seconds afterword. But when they did clear...

A lone silhouette stood in the space the glyph had once occupied, a knight armored in brilliant white, veined with traceries of glowing blue, and armed with a mighty blade it clutched before itself in imitation of my own stance.

A perfect replica of the possession-type Grimm Father's goons had forced upon me before I'd first left for Beacon so many months before. My first test. My first victory over my Father's controlling impulses.

It was... I could only describe it as...

 **"Hooooly crow, now that's cool!"**

I spun about at the whistling comment, one hand swiping my sword before me defensively, the other flitting to my chest on reflex.

Not that I'd been foolish enough to train in anything less than my properly modest gear, but this was my room, and... and I felt stupidly childish, curbing the motion with regal grace before its completion, and instead focusing on the speaker who stood perched on my window sill.

A window that was strangely enough still closed, yet the intruder's figure flowed through the barrier as if it weren't even present. His outline distorted, as if caught behind a layer of water or glass in softly glowing grey Aura that flickered back into the real, dropping him softly onto the floor without nary a sound to mark his arrival. Sleek white body armor over a dark body glove devoid of flair, but for a strip of green on his chest piece, a sheathed needle-thin sword belted at his waist, face hidden behind the tinted visor of a helmet.

A figure I knew, having seen him well enough a few nights before as he slaughtered my Summon so efficiently. One of Benjamin's men. One of his... Well, I suppose he was always saying they weren't Trappers. Not anymore.

Still, I lowered my sword to my side, but I didn't put it away, remembering all too well what one of these people were capable of, Yang having learned to her cost.

 **"Uh, thanks, Miss Schnee... Wanna call off your fancy buddy, too? Before he uh...yeah?"**

I started, shuddering unconsciously at the modulated tone of the youthful voice before noting what he'd said. Turning to find my summoned Knight still at the ready, poised to strike out with its empty eyed stare fixed soley on the young... the young 'asset,' I suppose was the proper term.

A nod was all it took to ease the summoned apparition, its body spilling apart into a hail of soft blue/white motes of light after a final bowing salute. Dispersing like a flurry caught in the wind.

 **"Okay, now that's impressive. Gotta say it."**

"You're... Corvus, right?" I said, tactfully ignoring the compliment and the childish swell of pride it brought on. "One of Benjamin's people. I suppose you have a good reason, then, for breaking and entering into a lady's room in the middle of the night?" Standing up straight, I did my best to disguise the bewilderment, projecting an air of confidence that seemed to put the Trapper... _FORMER_ Trapper off step, leaving him seemingly at a loss for words.

 _'...One of the less talkative ones, then? Though I suppose that's true for all of them, save that oaf Jasper...'_

"Well? I'm waiting."

 **"Er... Right. Well y'see, Ma'am... I mean Miss, isn't that...? Right, 'course you wouldn't be in on it. S'all improvised."** He trailed off shaking his head, evidently picking up on my best scowl, and getting to the point. **"Look, what I know is I've got sorta specific instructions to meet you and someone else in this particular room of this manse - great security system by the way, top notch - about this time tonight. Thought I'd stop by a little earlier and impress, but..."**

"Wait, Benjamin _didn't_ send you?"

 **"Heh, he wishes he had the stones to pull off something like... Um, sorry."** He floundered sheepishly, scratching at the back of his helmet sourly under my glare. **"Look when I said 'improvised,' I meant it... Sorta. Boss has got nothing to do with it, officially. Not this part anyway."**

"But if he didn't send you... How are you even allowed to...! Hmm?" I bit my lip, mind trying to work through the inane to the meat of the facts. The pressing details. "Me and someone else? Who would...!?"

A sudden knock at my door forced an involuntary shriek I barely managed to stifle with my free hand, blushing furiously until I realized Corvus had moved from the window to the door in a matter of heartbeats without me being any the wiser.

Silent like a ghost, though a ways different from how I recalled Joel and the other Trappers. Less refined, if still as effective. He just didn't seem to move like the others.

A fist clutched about the handle of his weapon, and looked at me expectantly, or so I thought without being able to see his face.

 _'...What exactly does he expect me to...!?'_

"Miss Weiss? Miss Weiss, are you still awake?" Klein's upbeat attitude did wonders to shatter the mood, as did the manner in which he burst in all cherry red cheeks and bright-eyed smiles. "Because if not, I'm afraid it's up and at 'em for you, young la... Oh my, a guest?" He neatly side-stepped the door as Etho slammed it shut and barred the way, sword half pulled from its sheath, the metal dulled to steal its luster in the moonlight. "Jumpy one, aren't ye, my boy?"

"Klein, don't worry. This is one of Benjamin's men, here on... someone's orders, apparently." I tried my best to explain the oddness of the situation, motioning frantically for the Trapper to sheathe his blade swiftly. "He's no danger, is he?"

"Why I do hope so, my dear! I was the one that opened up holes in our security to get him through easier," Klein said happily, ignorant of the slack-jawed look I must've been showing in blatant disbelief.

Klein Seiben, my father's loyal butler. The one responsible for... I couldn't believe it. Actually, no. No, I could, and the thought was enough to warm my heart.

"Sloppy form, too, by the way, on your part, my boy." He wagged a finger at the Trapper, who was now left standing by the door looking rather put out by his posture. "If I hadn't deactivated those pressure sensors along the window sill, you'd have been made for certain. And then where would we be?"

 **"Still here, I expect, which sorta defeats this whole plan. Point is, you're the guy I'm supposed to get in contact with, right?"** Klein nodded happily, oblivious to my stammering. Corvus not so much, judging by the way his helmeted head kept twitching my way. **"'Cause if so, we have to go _now._ Net's thinned, but sooner or later people are gonna figure out our little trick. Best not give them the chance."**

"Trick...?" My eyes widened at the word, especially when Corvus motioned towards a point on his neck seal that should've born the slight bulge of a tracking collar, but instead... nothing. "How on Remnant did you...!?" I froze, biting my lip. Knowing fully well exactly what someone with a title such as this child had once born could be capable of when determined enough, given the example I'd had. "Klein, what is this? What have you...!?"

"Why, it's rather simple, Miss Schnee," the Butler said cheerily with a sly wink, waggling a pudgy finger in my face just like he used to when I was a precocious child. "I've held position as caretaker to the Schnee Household for many years, serving your father in many a capacity. But my deepest joy in my career - in my _life_ \- has been looking after you children. To see you grow into the people you were always meant to be. As your Grandfather Nicolas would have doubtless intended."

"Klein...?"

The smile slackened, his eyes goring heavy and distant. "Some of your father's practices not withstanding, he has always done what he thinks is best for this family, even if in doing so it drove dear Winter away. The effect it has had on your mother, and Master Whitley..." The butler shook his head out, brushing at his bushy mustache with a wet intake of breath to steady himself, once more the consummate beacon of delight I'd grown up with.

The warmest heart in this big, cold, empty house.

"I will stand by him, nonetheless, just as I have always sworn to. I will serve the Schnee Family... But that doesn't mean _you_ must."

"I-I don't understand?" I was at a loss, which was understandable given the circumstances. The events of the last few hours... the last few days... in all honesty the last few months...

"Oh, little snowflake, I think you do. Always so quick on the uptake." Corvus snickered, though the sound was short lived, curbed by a red-eyed glower from Klein before I could even muster up the snuff to respond. The scolding brought back so many memories, so much warmth as a weight that I hadn't realized I'd been carrying seemed to melt away. "A person should be free to choose their own paths in life. Make the differences they believe matter. That was your intention when you left for Vale, wasn't it?"

"...You're certain you can't come along? I wouldn't mind." I motioned towards the former Trapper, the young man making a show of cleaning his dirtied boot on my bed frame.

"...You know I can't, my dear."

The butler hesitated as though about to reach out a hand to shake. I stole the initiative, jumping to take the portly little man in my arms, drawing him in tight. The embrace lasting several long moments before Klein pulled back, hands on my shoulders and wearing a look that I'd always imagined a proud father might've held...

A _real_ father, rather than someone staring at a long investment.

"Trust in your friends... Trust in those that care for the person you wish to be."

"I will." I nodded, meaning it, too. How strange. "I'll... I'll make you proud, Klein. I promise."

"You already have, Weiss. You already have, a hundred times over." He returned the gesture, his grip tightening a fraction before he moved back. Looking between the two children in the room as he moved slowly back to the door, purposefully keeping his eyes on me for as long as he could. "Now then, off with you both. It'll all be for naught if the security net comes back, and you haven't bid a swift exit. He knows the way, I expect?"

 **"Yeah, in the library. Now you butler's right. We need to move!"**

I rounded on the young man angrily, ready to tell him off for his tone or his lack of tact, I couldn't quite tell which. Problem was, I'd broken the spell, looking back to find the door closed, and the Schnee caretaker absent.

 **"Any time now, Princess! Preferably this one!"** Corvus shook his head, rapping a fist lightly against the side of his helmet as he moved for the window. **"Oh by the gods, since when did I become the pushy one!? Dammit, Iris...!"**

"What are you talking about? Who's Iris?"

 **"She's... just someone I know. Old friend... old partner. Never mind, not important. Not since she put a bullet in me awhile back."** He must've somehow noticed the expression I gave his back, the indentured Huntsman's next words colored by an unseen smile. **"...You'd have liked her, though. Thought I was pretty annoying most of the time. Slept on the job too much, apparently."**

"...Such a sterling vote of confidence. It's a relief to know they sent the best and brightest on this little illicit mission."

 **" _Ha, ha..._ Not exactly enjoying this either, _Schnee,_ "** he shot back with an edge of bitterness. One I recognized quite well.

Blake had used it months before, along with countless others over the years... This must have been the Faunus, then. The Faunus Trapper... Former Trapper... Why, this boy was just a wellspring of ironies and contrasts.

 **"I am curious, though, you seem to be taking all this in stride. You do realize you're giving up the lap of luxury right here, don't you?"** He kicked at the bedspread, whistling. **"Looking for trouble ahead."**

"I'm well aware of that. Now, were you being paid to question, or to see me from the grounds?"

 **"Not getting paid at all, actually. Though you suppose that might change if I put a stop to this, wake up dear old Daddy? Cut a deal, maybe even get that collar off for reals."** Silence fell as I tried to gauge if the teenager was actually serious, that expression of his impossible to read with that blasted helmet on. Something I suspected he enjoyed. **"Just saying. I could."**

"You _won't,_ " I said immediately, shocking him much to my own pleasure. Two could play at this game.

 **"Seem pretty sure of** **that."** The Faunus cricked his neck and moved back to his perch at the window, leaning out to search the grounds beyond. Doubtless plotting a route out in his head that could account for my less-than-subtle presence in his company. **"Given what I'm capable of, I mean."**

"Let's just say that I trust in Carson's judge of character, if nothing else. And I'm well aware of what you people consider yourselves capable of doing, Mr. Corvus. You don't need to impress or threaten." Still, I did my best not to flinch at the way his head turned slightly, as though pleased, or how he held himself up that little bit straighter. "I know Joel Ambrose, after all, so I hope you're at least capable of matching those expectations... Though I forget, were you the one he beat? Benjamin did share something to that effect..."

The mention of my former classmate seemed to do the trick, stealing the wind from his sails somewhat. Not that I cared overmuch so long as the competitiveness I'd marked out in Trappers helped him to perform his task, and get me to where I wanted to go.

Speaking of which, I did have a place in mind. Somewhere I could do the most good now... An objective, and maybe a bit of gratitude to pay back in kind. Though to be fair, it probably hadn't been what Klein, Ben, or their mysterious middleman had been intending.

I explained what I wanted, the idea having come in a fit of clarity and a moment's introspection, these and a spur of the moment recklessness I'd been only too intrigued to explore. The Trapper listened intently, stoic behind the tinted face plate, and eerily silent throughout.

It was maybe for the best. If he'd tried to talk me out of it I might just have relented.

Only after I'd finished did he reply, after leading with a question regarding my sanity. Well earned.

 **"You're serious?... L-like, _really?_ You're _seriously_ sure about that?"**

I nodded, wishing I could see the dumbfounded amazement on his face. Of course, I could've done without the snickering laughter, barely contained as the Trapper had to latch a hand to the window frame to keep from spilling into the yard, the other clutched tight about his waist.

 **"Oh ho,** **_man,_ Schnee! The Boss always talked like you were something, but _that!? That's just...!_ "**

* * *

 _ **-Ciane Skye-**_

"...a bad idea if I ever heard one."

I shivered as I heard the rattle of a door sliding open, and felt the calloused hand at my back shove me roughly forward. A building, then, the contents of which blocked by the hempen bag draped over my head, my world confined to rough-spun fabric, and my own mint-tinged breath.

"A very, _very_ bad idea, Hei."

 **"Yes, Ciane, you mentioned as such before. Several times, in fact."** Hei's calm level tone issued from somewhere up ahead, barely recognizable behind the filtering distortion of that damned mask he always wore now, but him nonetheless. **"It's growing rather wearisome. I must say, you were never quite so skittish back when we were..."**

" _Oi!_ Stop talkin', or I...!?"

 **" _Ahem!"_**

One of the goons leading us along attempted to cut him off, only to pause all of a sudden, gulp, then resume his march in silence a little bit ahead of where he'd been before. Further away from Hei, going by the placement of the steps, which was rather telling in and of itself.

Kage Goons didn't spook easy. Not when they were supposed to be the ones doing the spooking.

 **"...When we were youths, I meant,"** the young man finished as though the interruption had never taken place. **"Don't fret. It's unbecoming, and what they want."**

Funny to think there used to be a time that whenever I'd heard that voice, I'd feel some ingrained sense of ease... Yep real funny.

Then he left for half a decade, only to suddenly pop back up, refusing to show his face, and wanting to use me to make a deal. A deal, with the leadership of the Kage to discuss some 'business venture,' as he put it.

His plans... They were crazy. Damned, unmistakable _crazy..._ So why was I here now with a bag over my head, hmm?

Mikado and Mimi, even Tian Lan in her neutral capacity, had all warned me this would go poorly. Again and again for days on end, while Hei was out doing whatever it was he did, and her contacts got to work. At least Dandee had managed a customary 'Good luck,' right before expressing that they should be involved, and then promptly passing out on the nearest soft object into one of his Semblance driven dozes.

Something I'd flat out denied. No way was I involving my friends in something like this. Not if it all went bad.

Hell, I barely knew why I was involving myself...?

Why had I gone and waited by the air docks to meet the masked man claiming to be my friend?

Why we'd let ourselves get jumped and blinded, shoved into the back of a car, and driven about only to get dumped on our asses here? Wherever here was, exactly? I suspected somewhere industrial, maybe an abandoned warehouse out in the slumps, going by the background noise.

Why? _Why_ did I do this?!...

 _'You know **exactly** why... For Hei. Because you have some misguided notion that he owes you, or you owe him... Idiot girl...'_

"Well, you know what else's pretty 'wearisome?' Ending up in a drainage duct with your throat slit. And that's if they care enough to let you be found," I bit back, knowing the silence had worn a bit longer than I'd wanted. Especially if I wanted to give the impression that I wasn't pissing myself. "Kage still dumps troublemakers off the cliff faces, you know. While they're _alive._ Heard some Spiders went out over the edge only last week. Lil' Miss was a lil' pissed."

Didn't mean much. Fact is, everyone _heard_ the hapless thugs go over. All the way to the very bottom.

 **"I would imagine so. She hardly seemed the type to respond well to slights. At least not when I knew her. I doubt much has changed these last years."**

A smile built across my expression despite the back and the sudden sharp jarring pain of walking sidelong into a door frame. I couldn't help myself. Classic Hei, casually naming someone most people would think twice before even mentioning.

 **"So the Spiders are still relevant, then?"**

Now it was my turn to pause, my henchmen guide cursing under his breath, but apparently thinking wisely before trying to force me along. "Of course they are. New nests popping up everywhere you go. Well... everywhere the Kage isn't, anyway." Which wasn't a whole lot of places in Mistral. And with Kingdom enforcement stretched thin dealing with the Grimm, criminals were the new Kings and Queens... For now, at least. "Where have you been? Under a rock?"

 **"Something like that."** From what I could hear, he handled the stares like a champ. No trouble at all. How was that...? His Semblance, some radar type. Right... I really should've copied that when I had the chance. **"Really? A bag over the head?** **How delightfully quaint. So much simpler than what I'd had in mind."**

"Er... Glad I could... _Ack_! Glad I could help out," I gasped, finally clearing the top of the stairs, only to stumble over myself while silently cursing out the bumbling buffoon who was supposed to be my eyes while filing away what I knew of our surroundings.

Old building by what scant scent I could catch, out of the way by the distance of the outside noise. And these two goons weren't the only ones skulking around. Not exactly a comforting notion.

"You're sure about this, aren't you? I mean, this is the _Shadourōdo,_ himself, that we're talking about here. The guy's known for sending rival after rival over the cliffs, never to be seen from again."

 **"This man really has you worried, doesn't he?"**

"Y-yes, of course he does! The man's a hardened killer!"

 **"Ah, yes, very worrying."** I had to wonder if my old friend somehow didn't realize how crazy he sounded, or maybe he was just good at hiding what he really felt. That twisted voice, that strange helmet he never took off... It all made it almost impossible to tell what my old mentor was thinking, especially given some of the things he'd shared... **"That was always your problem, little Skye. Always latching onto those nastier rumors, refusing to delve deeper."**

"Rather take skittish to dead, any day. Even on the surface, he's still not the sort of guy you want to take lightly."

 **"A good thing that neither am I."** my friend said before a gruff grunt and a series of sharps knocks signaled the end of conversation.

A rumbling hiss of a shifting panel sliding open, a rough shove forward to the small of my back that put me down on my knees. Sudden illumination beckoned as the smothering sack was pulled roughly over my head revealing the full scope of what lay before us.

Well, the full scope of what we could see, at any rate.

A sitting room or an office of some sort, smaller than I might have imagined, though, perhaps that was owed more to the heavy shadows clinging to the four corners of the space. Enclosed like a fist slowly drawing shut to smother all writhing, figures moving throughout the dark recesses eerily. Outlines just out of focus, shifting places from one blink to the next.

Four, six...? It was impossible to tell just how many for certain in what dim light was allowed.

The only source of illumination were thin slits of sunlight pouring from recessed windows hung with thick silks, and a top the desk that lay before them. A quartet of candles burned lightly in guttering bursts, the overall effect combined clearly meant to cast the profile of the man that occupied that desk into as much shadow as possible, giving only the impression of a broad chin, and squarish fingers tented in contemplation of the morsels brought before him.

Or at least, that's what it certainly felt like to come before the _Shadourōdo_ , an individual who had most of Mistral's northern front under his boot by proxy from the dark underbelly of society. Lien laundering, theft and bribery, Dust and drug smuggling, along with a fair host of other scurrilous misdeeds.

I should know, having spent the good majority of my adult life and most of my childhood helping him do all of it at one point or another.

"...Skye, Skye, Skye, Skye, _Skye..._ Been quite awhile, hasn't it?" the figure behind the desk spoke aloud, shifting in his seat to lean even closer.

A big brute of a man, all roughshod muscle and wicked sharp-toothed grin squeezed into a lavish tunic of grays and blacks that showed off broad, tattooed arms and spade-like hands.

The same hands I'd known since the good old days when they'd grind my face into the floorboards of our rundown hovel. Promising to put me out on the streets one way or another if I failed to bring back anything for the take... _Again._

Hei actually stiffened, having somehow managed to remain standing as we were thrown into the room with the doors slammed behind us. That blank faced helmet twitching beneath the wide brim of his jacket's hood, fixed on his old... not 'friend.' certainly not that. ' _Tormentor._ ' That was probably better. His tormentor glowering back at us.

"You never stop by to visit anymore. Always so busy. Or so Lan says." Our host glowered in a thick drawl laden with sarcasm, leaning back against the side of the desk casually. His desk... "And whenever you do, it's always... always _something._ But, what can I do?" The man brought his arms up as if to embrace me, as if he'd ever truly be so warm. An act he'd learned, being cordial. "Family's family, and I'm even closer than that. How can I stay mad? Come here, let me get a look at you."

I wanted to resist, a small part at least, but in the end I found myself standing at the side of his quivering, and biting my lip like some scolded puppy.

 **"...Basil Shǔ."** Hei's voice sounded... strange, even with the mask. Halfway between a grunt and a sigh, pained.

Then and only then did the _Shadourōdo_ of Windpath, Master of the Kage, and the man who'd tormented us both as children deigned to notice him.

"And you brought a guest along! The one you told me about? The one you told me so _little_ about." The smile slipped into a thing less genial, more predatory, but still very much present. "Not that it matters. A little waif like you is more than satisfied in her tiny borrowed home with her castoffs. There's only one person you'd come bother me about. That you'd risk bothering me about after that public slip up on your last outing."

I winced, lowering my eyes just the way I knew he liked... the reaction painfully ingrained.

"Property damage, ghosts chasing a girl for over half a district distant, civil panic and unrest... Oh, the palms I had to grease to make all that settle."

"S-sir, I...! I...!?" I kept my mouth shut at a glare and a raised hand, that thickset jaw twitching as a nerve played at his temple. "I apologize."

"You should, shouldn't you? Little chit. Normally I'd need to send someone to get you at my door. _Normally._ " He leaned in close, placing a meaty hand like a vice about my shoulder, trying to get a peek under my companion's hood as he did so. "But she'd do it for an old friend, wouldn't she... _Hei-Hei?_ Always did have a soft spot for you. Used to keep us all up crying after one of her screw ups. Thinking you'd be back to help her, never quite believing the others when they said that Huntsman must've gutted you."

My cheeks burned at the insinuation and his touch, remembering those nights all too well. After he'd left, after Hei had wandered off with that Huntsman, things had been... _rough._ Basil humiliated, took it out on everything and anything within reach, without his second in command to smooth his temper and take the edge off things.

In fact, anything that Hei had touched or cared about was suddenly very much taboo... including me, funnily enough, along with a few others that curiously enough failed to make it through the next winter when food got scarce... _Me._ The lucky one.

Soon enough, things had gone back to normal. _Worse_ than normal. Basil took more risks for more reward, ironically using strategies Hei had left behind.

Half-baked ideas with a brutal twist that Basil had been more than happy to appropriate, things that made our little street cadre very big very quickly. Fights had broken out. Lots of those. Lots of old faces left in gutters or dumped unceremoniously off cliffs... But not me. No, I was lucky. Lucky, Aura-capable, _and_ smart.

Far too good for work on corners. Far more suited to sneaking around Combat Academies, learning what I could on Basil's dime. His little Huntress on call... Always Basil, always for him... as he so often enjoyed me at every opportunity.

"It _is_ you under there, isn't it, Hei-Hei? Xiao Hei, back from the beyond after all this time, and trying to hide under a mask while he's at it?" he asked, eyes narrowing as he eased back dismissively. "Remembered you being smarter than that."

 **"Evidently not, Basil,"** Hei admitted, bowing his head. The overlarge jacket rustling loudly with the motion, making it seem almost awkward. Diminishing him... **"You've done rather well for yourself. Ciane didn't mention this detail when I..."**

"Asked her to set up a meeting with the most powerful bastard in this misbegotten city, risking that pretty little neck of hers?"

He stroked my shoulder like I was some pet, so damned casual... So damned superior...

"In fact, scratch that. Probably one of the most powerful bastards in this corner of the whole bleeding continent, what with Mistral wrapped up with trying not to let itself get ripped apart by monsters and savages. Never remaining too idle or complacent, setting the board... Always respected that about you, y'know. Couldn't stand the attitude, but the sentiment? _... That_ was worth listening to."

 **"And you've done well,"** Hei repeated coolly, cocking his head in response to a flicker of movement from shadows. **"I'll admit, I'm impressed."**

Basil's brow twitched, his whole demeanor souring in an instant as he lumbered back to his chair, and crashed down with enough force to rattle the candles in their miniature sconces. "'Impressed...' As if we're not far passed the time when you could gloat or act superior with me."

 **"It was meant as a compliment."**

"And yet, it doesn't feel like one, oddly enough." Basil put a finger to his temple quizzically, frowning. "Why _is_ that, Hei? You clearly must want something if you've finally decided to show yourself to Skye - to me - after so long in whatever hole you've been languishing in. So I have to wonder, what could it be? Not Lien, certainly." He made a great show of shaking his head, tittering sounds emanating from the corners as those that lurked laughed and played the sycophant. "Last one of our old runners... Huang, I think her name was? Anyway, this little mewling thing of the streets, all mussed up and flirty, tried that. Tried to use what we used to have to get a leg up. Even threatened to rat me out to the cops at the time when I told her to shove off and earn it. Imagine that... Skye might remember what happened to her. Don't you?"

Sure, I remembered Huang. Little, cheery Huang, with her rosy cheeks and flashy smiles always clinging to the bigger kids, trying to keep fed and warm. Pretty, too. Pretty for a life like that, sidling up to me. A few nights here and there... Far too pretty for it all to end up like that in a dark alley, with only me out looking for her.

Finding her, staying to hold her close, and make sure she wasn't alone. Right up until she... Until she...

"Besides, I don't buy it. You're too prideful. Plus you wouldn't go through the hassle of hiding your face if that were the case. So what, then? Protection? Someone you hack off, like that Huntsman? Been wondering about that one. Tried looking into it, but I never... Ah, that's not important." He eased back against his desk, brow furrowing. "And no. Again, you're too damned prideful. At least I'd hope you'd be. Always respected that about you, too. So then that must mean..."

 **"An opportunity,"** Hei supplied, cocking his head nigh imperceptibly in the direction of one of the shifting shadows. **"One you may find rather interesting, old friend."**

"Oh, somehow I doubt that," Basil snickered mirthlessly, his interest clearly piqued against his better judgement. Knowing it put his rival in a position of power, so he overcompensated. "But of course, I didn't get where I am today by ignoring such a thing as opportunity, especially when it so kindly comes tumbling onto my doorstep, as it were." A magnanimous wave that Hei didn't deign to acknowledge or even seemed to notice, the shadows moving again without source. "Well? Out with it, then."

 **"A chance to change the face of this city. The face of this Kingdom, even. To direct the resources compiled here, and put them to proper use. Publicly, without the need to tip-toe around Huntsmen and police. Make a real difference."**

"...So dead..." I mumbled, hands clasped before me as I did my best to look submissive. Wishing my cloak hadn't been checked right before we'd been grabbed and bagged. Would've been great to huddle into and try to vanish.

"Make a real difference?" the _Shadourōdo_ intoned condescendingly, titters of laughter spilling from the corners as those shades moved closer, the impression of blade edges glinting in the dark. This atmosphere slowly grew more and more oppressive, and Hei didn't even seem to feel it, and that intrigued the crime boss. "The _Kage_ has lasted as long as it has _because_ we stay hidden. We don't kick up a fuss, and as long as the proper channels are followed, the right palms greased, the law and those Huntsmen see fit to leave well enough alone. Changing that - rocking the boat - sounds... _expensive._ "

 **"Perhaps, though profit isn't my concern, in truth."**

"...So very, _very_ dead..." I felt a cold sweat beading down my brow as Basil laughed, actually laughed. A cold cruel sound that echoed through the snug space to join those other unseen peals courtesy of his sycophants. "C'mon, Hei, your smarter than this."

"Evidently not, because I _do_ find profit to be a concern. _The_ concern," he said, managing to bring himself back under control. The thin affability from before was utterly gone now. "And to make this 'difference,' you'd require...?"

 **"Your personal air docks, for starters. The ones you own, and those you control through other means. I intend to be moving personnel and material in great quantities, and I'd prefer few questions as possible be asked. Then I suppose access to abundant storage with which to house them, though I estimate the Kage's sites within the Shallow Peaks District should suffice. However, I'd need them cleared but for the essentials. Clutter is something I don't abide."**

Silence. Utter silence met that proclamation. From me included, deafening in its entirety, at least until Basil deigned to break it first...

"Those are... some rather hefty demands," the crime boss said in rather open amazement, his veiled expression momentarily discarded. "Why, I don't offer that sort of collateral out to anyone. Not even to my best clients. Hell, not even to my best lieutenants for their sordid little side-gigs."

And he had a decent point at that. A whole district devoted to Hei's ambitions.

Just a few of those properties alone represented enormous sums of Lien in the amounts of weapons, Dust, and other sundries moved through them on any given night... A fortune, easily. Plus, there were the other parties involved in those locations already spoken for.

People who might not be so inclined to show grace at being forced out.

"So enlighten me, Hei. Exactly what would I stand to gain from this proposed little deal of ours, hmm? Would would I get to keep in exchange?"

 **"...Your _life,_ and I suspect the lives of those loyal to you for whatever reason."**

"...E-excuse me?"

 **"Pardon. You clearly thought this was some kind of beneficial negotiation between two equal parties. Forgive me, Basil, but it is most assuredly not."**

I blinked, not entirely sure I'd heard correctly. Basil seemingly had similar thoughts, his stance tightening instinctively. A hand reaching for his belt, though slowly enough to appear casual to anyone not familiar with him as I was... As Hei was just standing there with his arms spread casually now.

This wasn't in the plan, at least not in the version I'd been told. This was bold. _Too_ bold...

 **"I'm giving you a chance to live and let live. To stand aside, or perhaps even aid me if you feel so inclined. Of course, only so long as you stand as a benefit to efficiency in the endeavor I'm shaping, if certainly not a requirement."**

"Not a requirement...!? _Hah!_ Y-you...You can't be _serious!_ A 'benefit to efficiency!?'" A reddening of the face, teeth glinting in the semi-darkness far sharper than any humans had any right to be... though of course Basil wasn't exactly human as much as he tried to play it up. Teeth meant to tear and gnaw. A _rat's_ jaws... "You're... Are you threatening me!? _Me!?_ "

 **"Oh, I am. Your organization is impressive, yes. Useful, even. Though much of it is still based on old archaic Kage modes of function that have been in place since well before were children. Lingering in the shadows, backroom deals... Self-aggrandizing theatrics."**

The secret rooms, the shadowy scare tactics, the cloak and dagger...Everything a man like Basil Shǔ thrived on.

 **"Certainly effective enough in its way, if painfully outdated, easily navigable. Remarkably resilient to sudden change.** **In fact, it's a system practically designed to be taken up rather easily into fresh hands, just as it was for you when you assumed power, I expect, when you butchered the last Head.** **Suffice it say, you could easily be considered quite unnecessary, my friend. And that which is unnecessary... is to be _removed._ "**

A gloved hand gestured about the room slowly, whether by design or simple coincidence, picking out the positions of every single hidden guard that slowly bled from the walls and hidden nooks at a not too subtle hand motion from their _Shadourōdo_. Even those I'd missed entirely myself, only noticing after the fact.

A quartet of dangerous looking men and women in the blacks of the Kage, murder in their eyes gripping a variety of killing tools from swords to axes... Aura-trained. Dropouts from Haven like me. Well, not exactly...

These were the blunt objects Basil had wanted when he sent for a Huntress. Meanwhile, there I was, good for only picking locks and getting out of tight scrapes... but I had my value even so. A hand appeared on my shoulder again, wrapping me tight to a broad chest in a grip so tight, it killed any notion of squirming, nails digging painfully through the fabric of my tunic.

"I don't believe it, Hei-Hei... You've actually gone and cracked, haven't you!?" Basil said with a sarcastic chuckle he certainly didn't feel, a vein pulsing in his thick neck. "Little Skye here warned me beforehand that you were coming with a few crazy ideas. Seemed a bit off with the new getup and all, but this?... _This_ I didn't expect!"

His eyes lit up at the sight of his 'rival' twitching, that faceless mask beneath the hood regarding me slowly as the crime boss' nails dug ever deeper. My insides squirming...

" _Ahhh_ , you thought just because you showed up a decade late with a few nice words you could just step in and take what's mine? What I earned? _Who_ I earned!? I know all about those strange new friends of yours. Those maps you had hung up in that building we so kindly lent unknowing. Skye here was very specific. Someone shouldn't have had such loose lips."

"Basil, please don't! He's just... I didn't think he'd... _Ah!?_ " Suddenly fingers had my hair by the bun, catching hold of braids and hauling my head back with a shrill cry of surprise and pain.

"That's ' _Shadourōdo,'_ or 'Sir' to you! Just 'cause he's back doesn't mean you forget what I taught...!?" the rodent Faunus growled before biting back whatever petty barb he'd have added, realizing his control, and easing his hold on me, though not so much that I could do anything more than look at those beady little eyes and wicked teeth. "I worked my way up from nothing! _Nothing!_ I fought and bled for this seat, while you wandered off fancying some Huntsman! Why, is that even you under there, Hei-Hei!?"

 **"...You should stop calling me by that childish nickname. It's petty."**

"Petty!? That's cute! Take of the mask, and let's have a peek shall we? Better yet, _you!"_ He motioned to the closest of the Kage enforcers, a bruiser so big I had to wonder how he'd concealed himself so effectively, wielding two large hatchets in meaty fists. "Take that damned thing off, and bring it here. Bring the whole head if you have to."

"N-no, Hei! _Don't!_ Please...!?" I made to fight the hold now, Basil not even bothering to try, so fixated was he on what was about to happen. My mind raced as the man rolled his shoulders almost casually, ax swinging like a pendulum back and forth back and forth.

Hei did not even react, 'eyes' still fixed firmly on the big fish in the room. The big rat... But I _could_ react! Maybe...!

 **"Ciane."** I froze, noting that same confidence I so fondly remembered even through the mess of distorting static and corruption. **"Calm yourself. This will all be over shortly."** With that assurance his arm rose, index finger extended and aimed like a pistol at his approaching executioner who rightly paused at the gesture. Wary of a hidden weapon, or perhaps put off by the fact that the young man still had yet to acknowledge him even with ax now raised to strike. **"You played your part beautifully, by the way."**

"W-well, ain't that a relief," I sighed with a shaky half grimace, eyes glinting with a hint of pink. Lowering toward my left fist, still clenched at my side as Basil abruptly remembered my presence. Staring at what anyone else in the room might consider an empty palm, but to my eyes beheld a brilliant flare of phosphorescent Aura.

And not just my eyes either... Of course, that was the whole point of the trick after all.

 **"Hmph... Theatrics, with _purpose._ "**

"Wha...!?" Basil opened his mouth to protest, only to cry out in alarm as Hei's trigger finger twitched.

A sharp * _TWANG*_ of breaking glass, and his enforcer's head simply ceased to be with a pitiful flicker of impotent Aura. The other guards were momentarily stunned at the new paint job the room and their gear had just received, their Boss faring little better.

At least until the shooting started. Then all hell really broke loose as I found myself shoved to the ground.

Basil scrambled behind his desk, hand darting underneath while a pair of followup shots cleaned up two more of the guards. The last of them dropped barely a beat behind, with his comrade's ax somehow buried deep in his chest, Hei straightening from the half crouch he'd assumed to pick it up and put it there.

 **"Superb shooting, Brielle. Expertly done."**

I followed my friend's 'gaze' out the the shattered windowpane, catching sight of two figures crouched along the slatted roof of an adjoining stowage precinct.

One rather familiar face framed by a dark shock of hair replete with a violet stripe. One I'd last seen walking the floor of a suspicious warehouse surrounded by savages, most of her profile lost behind the scope of a rather cumbersome-looking rifle that she hefted with apparent ease.

The other one - clearly Mimi, if that pink hair and outrageous color pallet was any indication - managed a half-hearted wave despite the terrified scowl she wore quite openly. Another sizzling brand rose across her splayed fingertips at the behest of her Semblance, just like the signal I carried. The one the pair had followed despite the Kage's fine attempts at subtlety.

"This isn't...! This can't be...!?" Basil's panicked voice, risen to a pitch I'd not quite heard since... well, _that_ night in the moonlight with the Huntsman.

Finger jabbing what was clearly supposed to be a panic button of some sort rather than reaching for the gun I knew to be in the drawer beside it. The rat tried to get others to solve his little problem...

 **"Help won't be forthcoming."**

Hei's voice was calm for what the filtered tone betrayed, too calm to be standing in a room with quite so many fresh corpses. The smell suddenly reached my nostrils, bile rising up the back of my throat that I only just swallowed, content from my place on the floor out of direct notice.

 **"Barring those within this room, you had ten other enforcers staggered throughout this supposedly derelict structure, in fact boasting several hidden byways and points of entry and egress. Very convincing from without, and to still boast a room like this."**

Now he made show of admiring the fine art works inked onto walls stained red with splatter, at the soaked rugs and once impressive ambiance split by dying beams of light from the quartet of holes.

 **"I'm impressed, really I am. You've created quite the little rat's nest for yourself since the last one I knew."**

"Y-you...!? The larger man paled, staring about at the carnage and looking as though he'd need that desk to stay upright. " _Guards!_ Damn it, someone get in here and kill this bastard! _GUARDS!_ "

 **"Oh, they won't be joining us. Not now, at any rate. Lancaster, if you would?"**

A crashing rattle signaled the door we ourselves had entered through moments before being rather violently thrown open, so hard in fact it almost shattered. The scene beyond was... grisly. 'Abattoir' not quite doing justice to the broken remains of those that had escorted us slumped on the floor where they had fallen.

Judging by the fresh coat of paint, they were just the only ones visible, ended silently with us nary the wiser.

"Ten, last I counted. Good 'eye', Virgil, sir." The artist responsible, smug with satisfaction, stepped into view, twirling a red-tinged arrow between deft fingertips. His glee faltered a fraction upon seeing me, memories of getting blasted with a wave of dirt and over-pressure no doubt fresh in his thoughts.

 _'If only I'd known exactly what I was walking in on.'_ I wondered with a shudder, remembering full well my reaction when Hei, or 'Virgil' as he was known to his associates, had explained himself. Explained who he worked for, what he was working towards, what he was doing... _'How he'd tested me, my little audition...'_

"No, n-no that's not...! No kid would be able to...!?" Basil was clearly in shock, a terror that grew all the more evident as the young man pulled aside his jacket to reveal that rather potent of symbols. "Those savages, the Frontier, the Red Hand... _Trapper!?_ " Something snapped inside the Faunus, a panic button pushed, an instinctive need to lash out.

Regardless, gun forgotten, Basil instead leveraged his size and strength as the one advantage he had.

Face red and body thrumming with Aura, his fingers heaved beneath the desk with a mighty effort to hurl the thick wooden edifice bodily at his attackers. The archer, Lancaster, cursed and ducked aside with that preternatural speed I recalled just in time to avoid going through the wall like the rest of the work surface with an almighty _*CRASH*!_

Hei, though... Hei didn't even _hesitate,_ skirting forward underneath the low arcing trajectory of the impromptu projectile at such a speed, he almost seemed to appear before the frightened crime boss.

He was so fast, it shouldn't have even occurred to any sound-minded individual that he could be stopped, could be fought. But Basil had just watched his world start to crumble and without a doubt, even cornered as he was, he _had_ earned his way into that seat somehow.

When he saw danger he couldn't scurry away from, he defaulted to the thing that had always served him best. His bulk and his brawn, a strangled animal cry of anger and terror both plastering spittle across the blank surface of a contoured helmet, and clenched fist rising... only to be caught dead in an opened palm that had simply risen up, immovable, unyielding. Hei stared at his own limb, head cocked like a curious bird.

 **"To think back on how things were... It's hard to believe now."**

Veins pulsing underneath iron-shod slabs of flesh, I laid there and watched the strongest, most terrifying man I'd ever known manhandled like a child. A snap like the breaking of twigs, and he was howling, making to clutch for a wrist bent at an odd angle only to gag as he was hefted off the ground by the neck as if he weighed nothing at all.

Xiao Hei stood there, holding a man who had claim to well over half this settlement in his pocket completely at his mercy. Not a hint of strain or regard for the legs flailing helplessly at his Aura. A statue... An unstoppable force.

 **"Every blow you ever struck on me in the night while the others slept. Every snide word and humiliation, every demeaning act done out of spite you heaped on me. I remember them all, even now. They stand out in my mind... as defining** **moments**."

It was almost wistful, the way he talked. Terrifying in its ease, a rodent's eyes bulging in their sockets as the grip grew steadily tighter and tighter by the second.

 **"All reasons to hate you, to draw this out for that same childish notion. By the _gods,_ I used to think about what I'd do, sometimes. What I'd say to my first tormentor, if only I had the chance. Curses, taunts, y** **et here we stand... and I don't even feel the need. Odd, isn't it?"**

I wasn't certain he expected an answer, but he got one. Gurgled between lip slowly but surely turning as blue as my hair. "H-Hei!... Hei! You... You don't need to... P-plea... _Gack...!?_ "

 **"I was _always_ better than you. Smarter, cleverer, and you knew it. Hurt me for it, but now..."**

Hei turned his profile away from me, fingers toying with hidden seals that released the face of the helm, panels folding back like petals to reveal what lay beneath. A face I couldn't see from my spot on the floor, but one I could imagine in the horrified disgust in Basil's eyes. That one last hurt he could inflict... answered with a rasp that hissed like a blade on leather.

The whispered voice I remembered, but changed irrevocably. Just familiar enough to hurt...

"...Now, I'm so far beyond you. So much... _bigger_ than you." He tightened his grip, a simple inexorable squeeze punctuated by breaking vertebrae "Thank you, at least, for this."

* * *

"By the gods... I-I didn't realize you were going to... to kill him."

We stood together, Hei and I, in the ruins of the _Shadourōdo's_ hidden office, staring at the place where Basil's body had lain. Now long since taken away with the others by Lancaster and a team of brutish giant's in fur lined hide and leather armor. Dragged off to the nearest police station, or so my friend... my friend the _Trapper_ had said.

Such would be the fastest way of spreading the word that the old regime was over. That the Head of the Kage was no more, and that change was on the horizon.

I could already imagine the looks on some faces as they heard the news. The fights for territory, and the rush to claim what pieces they could while the going was good. To get a drop on rivals once denied them by fear of the Kage and reprisal. Tian Lan and her little theater, my crew... Mikado, Dandee, Mimi... Gods, the girl had bawled her eyes out when she'd picked her way into the room, right after emptying her stomach at what lay inside.

Hei had plans for them all, of course. He always had a plan, always some angle. It's what I remembered most about him. What I respected, just as Basil must have...

"You didn't mention that part of the plan."

 **"I offered the choice, didn't I?"** he replied, silent for a long moment as I turned to look at him. My expression clear, as was his answering sigh. **"But I knew how it would end... How _I'd_ wanted it to end. ****Would it have changed anything, you knowing?"**

I was silent, contemplating my answer for a few moments... More for my own comfort than anything truly profound. My conclusion was obvious from the start.

"...No. I don't think it would have." And it was the truth, staring down at the broken remains wetting the ground before me. Representing years of shame, torment, and so much more. "I actually liked Huang... She was one of the better ones... The things he did to her, to me...!"

My whole body stiffened beneath my cloak at the feeling of a gloved hand clasping about my shoulder once more. The same limb that had strangled the life from Basil and brought down an old enterprise that had terrorized this city for the better part of half a decade... Far longer in truth. Xiao Hei eerily silent, his expression unreadable through the mask, but the gesture alone was telling.

I didn't know Virgil Jett, and I wasn't even sure I knew Xiao Hei anymore... but still, I suppose I knew how to keep myself afloat, even now...

"What can I do, Hei?" I shook him off, the effort harder than I might have imagined. His strength present even in idleness astonishing and just a hair bit terrifying. "Or should I call you ' _Shadourōdo'_ now?"

 **"For you, Hei will work just fine... in private,"** he said, a smile showing through his tone. At least that was what I imagined, thinking back to the handsome, dark-haired man I'd known growing up. **"This is merely the beginning, Ciane. I know it doesn't feel that way, but change is coming to Mistral. And it starts here."**

Fancy words - very fancy - but oddly enough, in those desperate, unsure seconds, I believed him. Of course, I was still skeptical. "And how can I help... How'd you put it? Get a chance at changing this city, this Kingdom. Put resources to proper use, make a real difference. How?"

He looked at me for a long moment. _Really_ looked at me, or so that was the impression I got. A sense of being watched, studied, assessed... And then a reluctance, before finally... **"Yes... Yes, there is something you and yours can aid me with... A man I need found. Last I heard, he'd settled here in Wind Path. He's required."**

"This mystery man has a name, I expect?" I meant it as a joke, something to lighten the mood.

But this wasn't Hei at the moment. This was Virgil Jett through and through.

 **"Indeed, he does."** I shivered, realizing the full implication of what exactly he was asking of me by his very tone. At the very least the importance he placed upon it. **"The only living witness to an event** **long ago. One I would _very_ much like a word regarding. Can you do it?"**

" _...Yes._ " I breathed after a long pause, surprised by how assured it sounded, how confident.

Tearing my gaze away from that tainted spot on the floor forever, casting it aside as I had so much else.

"Consider it done."

* * *

 _ **A/N: And there we are after a nice long break, Weiss is out of the house and making her own decisions, which may play out a bit differently from in canon truth be told, and Virgil got his revenge on his old childhood rival and got his hands on a Kingdom spanning organization in the bargain.**_

 _ **Hope all that came across alright, been planning it for awhile and it'll have quite a bit of an impact on the story moving forward. Especially given who he's searching for.**_

 _ **Wanted to get a chapter out seeing as I'll be outta the country on family stuff for a few weeks, not sure if I'll have the time to get stuff down. Hope it was enjoyable and feel free to message if you've got any questions. - Mojo**_

* * *

 _ **(Next Chapter: A look at the past, trouble rearing)**_


	32. Chapter 32

**_Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One._**

* * *

TO REMEMBER

* * *

 ** _-Joel Ambrose-_**

"...us, Joel?... Hey?...Hey, are you still with...?"

It was murmured whispering and the sound of my name that snapped me back to reality, blinking away the momentary fog to share a glance with the dark-haired Faunus seated beside me in the tiered lecture hall.

One of her rare furtive half-smiles was tugging at her lips at the thought of catching me dozing off in class for once, not that I could honestly be blamed for the lapse.

Professor Peter Port was a skilled Huntsman by his own account. He'd have to be to earn the right to teach at a school as storied as Beacon Academy. Problem being, that said account was something he'd made it his life's mission each week to share with his class in rather descriptive, if not altogether exciting detail with those prospective Huntsmen and Huntresses-yet-to-be.

This week's hit especially rough, a rambling diatribe that had started with him waking up in the field for his usual morning calisthenics routine - which I suspected he'd seemingly abandoned in the years since - before suddenly being set upon by several Arachnaphobia from on high apparently drawn by his excessively displayed physique.

His tale then devolved into a half-muddled explanation of exactly how he'd dispatched them with his Blunderaxe - how such a thing could be rendered dull having to be an art form in itself - leading to what now appeared to be a loving rendition of his grooming habits...

Suffice it to say, a good half the class were partway nodding off themselves by now, with the notable exception of Weiss studiously copying every word by wrote as though it were holy text. The rest of those normal souls sat with heads flat to the tabletops hidden behind propped notebooks, some far more successfully than others.

Max and Yang openly snored on opposite sides of the room, heads flat in their textbooks. Ruby's red head bobbed dangerously in the row behind us, idly doodling something in her notes.

Ben was propped back in his chair with his goggles over closed eyes, legs crossed on the desk, though, to give him credit, he at least had his Scroll set up to record the lesson for later.

 _'Huh, not such a bad idea, actually...'_ I'd have to get him to show me that particular function, still not having entirely figured out these accursed tablets just yet.

"You feeling alright?" Blake tilted her head, turning her amber gaze down to the table before her, bow twitching every so often. No doubt trying to pick out the relevant details from amidst all the prose. "It's rare to see you zone out of it like that, even with... y'know."

She motioned towards the front of the room, the portly professor waving his arms with the audacious pomp of a Mistrali playwright.

"I get our partners, but I thought you were supposed to be the alert one on your team."

"Nah. Thinking Reika has that role covered in spades," I waved her off with a sly smirk. "Wouldn't want to steal her thundee _erm..._ "

I shifted in place with a heady groan, cringing at my own unintended pun, and glowering back fitfully at the slumbering blonde responsible for corrupting me. She probably needed the rest, of course.

The stubborn blonde had gone and pulled a muscle while we were practicing some of her intriguing boxing techniques, and rather than see sense and go to the nurse, she'd tried to laugh it off despite my worrying, even to the point of snapping.

Confounding, sure, but whenever I tried to be truly mad, I'd drift back to those desperate few mental images of violet eyes caught up in worry scant nights before. Yang had been beside me in the aftermath of those... _things..._ Comforting me... Caring when there was no need.

 _'Offering freely, but too strong to accept...'_

My eye twitched even as I watched her, and an ache lingered in my chest, acknowledging the awkwardness that had sprung up, and knowing it would need to be addressed at some point. Exactly how, though... That escaped me. And then there was the matter of this not being the first time... Something about her...

"Yeah, not the most observant. Definitely not," I admitted, craning my head as I did so. I raised an eyebrow as I caught a cursory glimpse of what she was eyeing up so intently.

A small dog-eared novel with elaborate flowery text in a style I'd never seen, at least not here in the Kingdoms, at any rate... A romance of a sort maybe?

Piquing my interest somewhat, I had noticed such things bandied about between Master and Liz between assignments, the two of them always giggling afterwards over... _something._ Seeing as the only books I'd ever read in the Frontier - what few made it out that far, at any rate - were fairy tales about Queen Rowan, dry historical accounts, or sheet music, of course I'd be interested in the Kingdom's fiction.

But knowing the Faunus was as well...

Sure, Blake seemed the type, but I'd never seen her quite so involved in her literature...

"Though I still have my moments... Good read? Must be if it's... Hmm? What's that you've got there...?"

I'd admit to feeling just the slightest bit of hesitation as the Ninjette practically jumped in her seat, letting out a mewling hiss of surprise.

Not flamboyant enough to draw the Teacher's attention away from lovingly piecing together how he'd brewed his tea to have just the perfect balance of mint and honey, but easily far more of a reaction than I'd ever seen in weeks of knowing her.

 _\- And now there he crouched over me amidst the castle's tiled grandeur, still as handsome as ever, with katana clutched firmly in hand. His chiseled jawline outlined with dark stubble in the shadowed moonlight...-_ Hands scrambled to shut the novella hide the contents, but not before I could make out more than a few lines... -... _lips tugging into a rakish grin as fingers calloused by hours in the practice yard played at the fringes of my disheveled yukata, probing ever further into the deepest recesses of my..._ -

"My... Uh... _Whooooa..._ "

And what lines they were, my cheeks flaring to match her own scarlet visage, ;ooking for all the world like she'd just tasted something foul.

My eyes lingered on the unassuming cover of a sheathed sword... A sword I couldn't be certain was actually supposed to be a sword going into a sheath. That must have been meant to be a... Or was it, and I was just..? And if so, then what was with the rose coiled about the... Oh...

 _Oooooooh._

I sat in awkward stupor, mouth working as words and quips died in my throat, well aware that I'd stumbled upon something tenuous. Something I clearly wasn't meant to have witnessed. But even so... By her blood, the girl was bold, reading such a thing in public as she had been so easily moments before...

 _'...Master always did say it was the quiet ones, after all...'_

"W-well, Blake, I wouldn't have... That book about the two souls wasn't like... I just thought...?"

"...n't tell anyone, Joel..." my friend mumbled under her breath so quietly, not even my ears were able to catch her first few attempts at speech. Evidently, she'd noticed I was slow on the uptake, however, and required some direct intervention, biting her lip with a mewling whine and a shaky reluctance, before rounding in her seat to face me, though clearly unable to meet my gaze for the moment. "Don't. Tell. _Anyone._ "

 _"_ N-no I wouldn't...?" I started, words dying abruptly in my throat as she hissed, seeming more like a cat in that moment than I'd ever seen before. So much so, it might've been endearing if it hadn't been related to... _Hrmm_...

 _"Anyone!_ Not a word, please!" She grimaced in interruption, amber eyes downcast even as they looked about the unsuspecting room, her cheeks burning as scarlet as Ruby's mantle.

By the gods, she really was upset, then? But of course, she would be. This was obviously a secret of hers. A somewhat sordid one, at that, which she bore all alone. Now, it was cast out into the open, the girl no doubt thinking I now thought of her as some sort of... Right, of course she'd be worried. Some might use this information against her, or judge her differently.

Cardin standing in the Mess hall, proclaiming my former affiliations for all the school to hear brushed through my mind for the briefest of moments. How I'd felt afterwards, how relieved I'd been to find I wasn't on my own, even so.

"I swear, I'm not into perverted stuff like... _that!_ It's just... just a hobby! Yeah! Something I picked up on a whim! It doesn't mean...!?"

She stiffened, her flustered excuses cut short as I reached out and took the book to examine it more closely. The Faunus was too stunned to have more than a passing resistance as I looked over the short summary printed across the back with interest. A tale of love and acceptance in a time of war and conflict in a fantastical setting, with a few added perspectives of an adult nature, sure, but overall, it seemed like a rather interesting slice of literature.

"You mind if I borrow this when you're done with it?" I flipped through the first few pages, careful not to read into anything too closely just yet. "Actually, is this a series? Probably better to start from the beginning then, huh?"

"...Yeah... I mean, yes, it is. Definitely," the Ninjette nodded emphatically, caught somewhere between excitement, relief, and suspicion all at once in the same instant. It was pretty adorable, all things considered. "You...? Joel, this sort of thing doesn't bother you?"

"Should it? I don't see anything wrong with a bit of healthy interest." I shrugged, giving her a thumbs-up that, to my dismay, was sparking just a tad. Stupid hormones... "Blake, with how often Ben brings his ' _conquests_ ' around the room most days, I'm pretty sure something as tame as a book is more than appropriate."

I motioned back towards the snoozing bandit, half-tempted to chuck something and knock him clear out of his seat. The number of times I'd had to scrounge for blankets and make do in one of the locker rooms after getting unceremoniously kicked out...

"Actually, come to think of it, you mind if I stop over around your guy's dorm and read sometime? We'll make a day of it. Maybe even whip up something together for you guys as thanks, if I can use your kitchen?" Maybe a little bold, but I might as well make the intention clear. Knowing what I did of the Belladonna's habits, she'd be just a hair too reserved to make such an offer herself.

 _"_ I-I mean that sounds... rather lovely, Joel," Blake nodded slowly, warming to the idea now she seemed reassured I wasn't going to lambaste her to the entire student body. "I'd like that. Just... The thing is, we have to make sure Ruby doesn't...?"

"Wait, _what's that!?_ You can _cook,_ Joel!?"

Speaking of Ruby, it seemed she'd been listening in at least somewhat while Blake and I were otherwise engaged. Of course, the talk of food must've drawn her like a Beowolf to sin, the melange of the lesson shaken off in the wake of possible confections.

"Like _cooking_ cooking? Or _baking?_ Do you bake... cookies? _Please_ tell me you can do cookies!?"

 _'Huh? Was this what Blake wanted to avoid?'_ I raised a confused brow at the blood leaving the other girl's face at the sight of her Team Leader's interest. Was she worried I'd be chased off by a rabid Ruby Rose? Especially after I'd been the one to make the offer...

 _"_ Um, yeah, I think so. Picked up a little here and there before..." I trailed off, trying to picture when in the last few years I'd even thought about cooking or baking for someone else in a situation not based upon purely survival or necessity. Marigold and Liz had hoisted the role of chef on me from the very first moment, I hadn't had a choice in the matter... "Been awhile, sure. But something simple shouldn't be too hard to fig- _er..._ Ruby?"

Too late, I realized I'd shifted my position too far, giving the young leader a full ahead glimpse of the book cover in my hand. Silver eyes locked on like targeting arrays, that begging pout she'd put on moments before widening in surprise, and then narrowing to thin outraged slits.

 _'Oh boy, **that's** why Blake was nervous...'_

 _"_ _FILTH!"_ I flinched back at the quivering finger suddenly shoved in my face, Ruby hunched over her desk to place herself between myself and Blake protectively. But why _protectively?_ It wasn't like I was... " _You're_ the one peddling smut! Shamelessly defiling my teammate's innocence! _How dare you!?_ "

"I swear, I'm not, uh... Wait, _what_ am I doing now?"

 _"*AHEM*..._ Miss Rose, Mr. Ambrose, do you mind?" Ruby and I both jumped in our seats and spun around to the sight of Port waggling a pudgy finger at us disapprovingly, finally unable to ignore our mutterings any longer after such an outburst. "I was just about to get to the best part, where I was forced to call upon my fellow Huntsmen to aid me in slaying the mad bovine of the labyrinthine depths. Not something Team Leaders should ignore. _Ahhhhh,_ what a tale. Just thinking of it reminds me..."

Renewed groans from the class went on ignored by the boisterous Huntsman, Ruby slinking back into her seat suitably admonished and leering at me from on high. An image somewhat ruined by the fact she'd huddled up in her hood, looking like someone had gift wrapped a silver-eyed kitten... Speaking of which...

"So, this weekend alright?" I asked out of the corner of my mouth, knowing that with her ears Blake would be able to pick up my meaning without being overheard this time. "I'll even whip up some peace offerings. Maybe enough to distract Ruby from our, uh... book club?"

"Book club. The contents of which doesn't leave our confidence. Shake on it, Ambrose." Blake reassured with a sly cheshire grin that I couldn't help but return in kind, holding out a hand underneath the desk.

One I moved to take, a part of me noticing the strange shadows lengthening throughout a room steadily loosing its grip upon reality. Students vanished like wraiths, but for those closest to me... And even they were growing all the more indistinct.

But I wasn't panicking. Not then. This was just some memory playing out from the first few months at Beacon. Before the mess with Cinder, and the loss of Pyrrha. Before even that mess in Vale alongside Yang... Yet a part of me noticed the difference, even as Blake was the last thing to fade, my hand reaching out for hers...

"And don't worry about Ruby. I'm sure I can..."

* * *

 _"...make you understand, Brother!"_

Blinking the shadows from my vision, my heels crunched on a crimson-tinged patina of dust and gravel, with my hand outstretched to nothing.

I suddenly found myself leaning towards the jagged edge of a towering cliff line overlooking wild plains thick with brambles, and reaching outcrops of stone. Around which glowed brilliant bonfires, revealing what was clearly a veritable host of humanity.

Their finer details were indistinct from this distance, but all were clearly equipped for a fight, and equipped poorly. Many sported little more than thick-looking jerkins, crude weapons, and more not even those.

The air was thick with the scent of ozone and dust, skies rumbling with hammer blows of roiling thunder, and the combined sounds of the force below.

Shouts, cries for organization, tense laughter amidst hide tents... It was the sort of thing I used to hear with the Red Hand before a rough raid. Men and woman fighting the nerves in the only way they knew how as to beat back the negativity.

 _"There's just something in such moments, those hours before the fighting begins. Can't you feel it **stirring** in your bones? This tension, the excitement...!"_ Again I wasn't alone, Akan's voice sounding nearby, yet some how distant all at once. Different from before... _" **Mmph...** Nothing quite matches it. **Nothing** at all!"_

Turning towards the source, I stifled a yelp at the strange trio perched an arm's length from me, overlooking the valley. Neither seemingly responded to my presence in the slightest. Two humans, one beast.

Both men were dressed in the eclectic fur-trimmed garb and paints I'd learned long ago to associate with the Safehold clans, complete with the distinctive facial scars of their Warriors. The younger-looking of the two - maybe a handful of years older than I was if that, though still easily a head taller and broader, with scarred, impressive musculature - sat hunched on a weather-beaten stone outcrop looking down at the assembling army below.

A lounging Hund, large as any I'd seen with coarse red matted fur nestled at his foot, chewed at something that looked like an arachnid's mandible, only it was the size of my forearm that the man had just passed to it after taking a hefty bite himself.

Man and beast each carried similar canid yellow eyes.

The human's especially were shining in anticipation from beneath wild, auburn locks that hung to his chin, the majority of it schooled back into a messy Hund's tale. The way he smiled, and that face underneath the crimson paint... one I'd only seen depicted in the oldest tapestries hanging in the halls of Aegis Academy a lifetime ago. And never so youthful...

 _"This is a poor plan, Akan, even for you,"_ the older voiced through a thick dark beard, arms crossed across the haft of a long spear shimmering with gleaming silver jangling with totems... One I knew well.

 _Long Fang._ The same weapon my cousin Aubrey bore back in the Frontier, shoving my face into a corpse...

"The man is Dearg, the Hund Flanna."

I closed my eyes, shaking my head clear of old recollections, and opening them to find the doppelganger by my side once again. An imperfect copy of myself bearing a voice much like the youth before us, only older, rendered somber by the weight of something nonphysical...

"Dear friends in those early days. Dear, _dear_ comrades. Kenneth had told me my brother's weapon even carried on into the ages in some forgotten honor, made fine and made to last. Born of Bastion's forges in the days before Rowan saw it liberated. The same forge and master that saw Rowan's own blade into creation, or so I'd heard it boasted."

" _Soooo..._ Why do you still look like me?" I asked in already bemused acceptance, cocking my head towards the other Akan. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable...?"

" _You_ would be more comfortable, Pup. This form serves well enough," he replied easily as though it made all the sense in the world. "This is his dream, his life ahead of him. Let him have it." I nodded awkwardly, still struggling to comprehend the situation. "Your sun-haired lass is fetching, and the air of a warrior lingers strong on her. Excellent taste. And the Beastborn girl in black. Who is she? The one in possession of the lewd artwork."

Biting back a curse, though only just, I drew in a deep breath as I contemplated the answer. 'Beastborn...' Faunus. So he meant...

"...A friend of mine," I said soberly, eyes set. "And it's legitimate literature."

"Of course it is." His tone was light, one not delivered without effort. An attempt to tease me. "A friend, eh? If only I were so fortunate to have such friends... Still, I can feel a shadow of your emotions, Pup. You needn't seek to hide such things. Anger, dismay..."

"It's _complicated._ Leave it at that. Please." I grunted, examining the scene before me with a small frown.

Something wasn't quite right, nagging at my hind brain and the instincts Marigold had cultivated in her mad attempt to turn me into her. The other dreams hadn't been like this, never so... _involved._

It felt almost intrusive; voyeurish. And all the more... Wait a sec.

"How could your friend have that weapon, then?"

I rounded on him, noting the shadowed look in his- _my_ eyes at the question.

"The other dreams, the memories... Before she freed it, wasn't Bastion controlled by...? So then how would he have gotten his hands on...?"

Something caught my eye in the valley amidst the encampment, a flapping banner of tattered crimson cloth, the broken moon emblazoned proudly across it in stark silver.

The symbol taken for the first sight Rowan had of the wider world...

Her sigil. Her emblem.

"You... You're not planning to..!?"

 _"...have these gibbering slaves surrounded, their lines of supply cut off, and above all their 'Maiden Queen' herself in our sights,"_ Dearg growled vehemently, glowering down at the assembled host with marked disdain. " _There's no need to go through with this ridiculous challenge, no need for you to fight this 'Rowan' alone. Not when we have her cornered."_

 _"You don't think I can defeat some hapless slave girl?"_ Akan - _that_ Akan - said in mock offense, ruffling his partner's fur. Flanna noted her human ally's lack of reaction to the jest with another nipping bite. _"Her tales are impressive, true. Mayhaps she truly **can** draw storms and control their fury. It matters not. When have I ever failed to bring victory when demanded?"_

 _"Everything begins and ends somewhere,"_ the old warrior grunted, shifting his weight evenly, and offering the canine a returned nod of respect. _"Tis the height of foolishness. Let us simply purge the chaff as the Chosen demand, and be done with another of their blighted tasks."_

" _So eager to impress the ones holding the leash, are we?"_

The younger man winced, his fellow cuffing him across the back of the head lightly... Well, 'lightly' in Safehold terms meant it would've likely hospitalized a normal person.

Still, the laughter written across Akan's face endured, the casual air unflappable.

 _"A woman born in tunnels, rising to lead a ragged band like that across the land. THIS land."_ He swept an arm out wide to encompass the harsh landscape stretching towards the horizon before leaning in closer, forearms and knuckles bearing simple silver armlets... _"Aren't you the least bit curious, Dearg? In return for having me swear our force will spare her slaves if I lose this bout - that we will trouble her no more - the girl actually pledged to become one of my brides if I am victorious! Fair terms, I believe."_

 _" **Another?** " _Dearg scoffed, and I along with him, truth be told. My mirror image suddenly was very much focused on his boots, a dopey grin on his face. _"You haven't even seen this one. She could be an ogress with broken teeth and pox, for all you know."_

 _"An ogress capable of bringing the Goddess' wrath down upon herself!"_ the young Akan countered, wagging a finger. _"Strength has its own beauty. One I am interested in appreciating firsthand quite soon."_

 _ **"Is that so, Chieftain?** **"**_

I flinched, my mirror image doing likewise as something passed between us. Some _thing._

It was a glassy orb encrusted with bone protrusions, born aloft by writhing tentacles. A Grimm the likes of which I'd never seen before, and never wished to again. The voice drifting from it sounded hollow, yet unmistakably inhuman.

 _ **"A fight for the Traitor's hand? Sparing the slaves... This was not what I demanded of you, Savage. Not what our Lady demands of you unwashed scum."**_

"One of the Dark Goddess' Chosen. Her ' _Barons,_ ' as your Kingdoms might phrase it. A being granted her gifts of soul and darkness both," the mirror Joel supplied helpfully, his face twisted and ready to match the thrumming growls of his past Hund companion.

No wonder people tended to buckle under that sort of look when I gave it, though it was my first time witnessing it in such a way.

"You might consider it similar to this... 'Cinder' woman from your memories, I suspect. Only far less subtle."

"Cinder!? What do you...!?" That had my eyes widening, mouth opening to question, only to be cut off once more.

 **" _By HER will, Savages, you are to cleanse the valley of these malcontents. And you shall do so swiftly, and without mercy,"_** the chosen continued, bobbing almost hypnotically in a discordant rhythm. _**"The woman especially. This 'Rowan.' The Goddess demands her death as an example. A painful one, for daring to defy Her divine will."**_

 _"And for killing one of your own, or so I hear it told,"_ the young Safeholder voiced blatantly, still looking out over the throng. Dearg bit his tongue, looking like he'd just swallowed something sour, while Flanna simply watched, her fangs bared. The vapors swirling within the Grimm's orb turned more vibrant, more chaotic at the unexpected retort. _"Tis why you asked this of us, no? You and your monsters have failed to see her slain, again, and again, and again."_

The Akan beside me chuckled despite himself, even though his friend and I probably shared the same looks of alarm at the nerve. Especially once I noticed those languid tendrils ended in bone spurs and sharp spikes.

 **" _You speak out of turn before your betters, Slave."_** That line seemed to hit a nerve, the smile dying on the faces of both Safeholders, both the ones beside and before me.

 _"You are not your Goddess, monster, and I am **not** your pet." _the young hero growled, his canine ally spitting the remnants of bug meat from her muzzle upon the ground, the exoskeleton shattering in her jaw. That Akan twisted in his seat despite Dearg's less than furtive urgings, a fist clapping to his chest hard. " _I am Akan, and **I** lead those that would follow me... **ME,** not you!"_

The change was immediate, from jolly levity to vicious temper in a heartbeat.

 _" **I** decide who I fight, and for what! **I** made this plan! **I** have trapped these enemies of yours here, and **I** shall do with them as **I** wish! And **I** wish to fight this 'Rowan'! I wish to test myself against one who supposedly killed a demigod!" _

He shrugged off Dearg's hand with bitter ease, glaring at the Grimm with eyes that almost seemed to glow in the overcast dusk.

" _A slave claims the task, so it can't be so difficult. Your Goddess and her gifts must be lacking."_

 ** _"You...You mongrel cur! You dare...!?"_**

 _"Yes. I **choose** to dare!"_

In the time it took to blink, the spiked tendrils stabbed forth, intent on spearing the upstart in the throat, heart, anywhere that would see him dead. Moving with such speed it was difficult even for me to keep track of, other tendrils spread outward in order to pin his movements if he attempted to dodge.

" _Akan, wait, you fool...!?"_ Dearg called out. Flanna loosed a bark of alarm that made my eardrums ache.

"Impulsive." My Akan shook his head. "I was so impetuous back then... I miss those days."

" _Back then!?_ " He'd run in head first at a Bies while joyriding in my body, no weapons to speak of as if...

Sure enough, the Hero had vanished from his seat in a flicker flash of crackling, crimson Auratic embers, reappearing suddenly behind the reeling Soulless messenger in much the same stance, already shifting in motion.

The creature barely having time to register its prey's sudden disappearance before a spinning kick shattered its orb-like cranium in a spray of gaseous matter. Its last gasping act was an attempt to strike once more with a rear talon at its killer, Akan catching the tendril in his grasp inches from his eye as his feet clapped against stone...

That same target glared into what swirling mass of darkness remained before it and the tendril finally dissolved.

"What you did...?" I released a breath I hadn't been aware I'd been holding, glancing at the Akan with me. "A Semblance?"

It had to be. And I remembered clearly how my cousin had used much the same power.

A blink, capable of carrying her short distances in an instant...

"Indeed, Pup. Good to know my blood still flows strong in this new age."

"Ah. Your... 'Gift,' then?" He nodded, looking on at the scene approvingly.

 _" **You...! You've killed us all, Akan!** Even you must realize that much, don't you!?" _Dearg called nervously, staring at the patch of ground the creature had occupied, and then at his lead, tightly gripping _Long Fang's_ haft so hard that his knuckles whitened. _"You **fool!** The Chosen will have our brothers riled and raring to cut our throats by day's end!... We're dead men, even with the Slave Queen's head! The Goddess, she won't forgive this easily! We're **doomed!** "_

 _"Perhaps,"_ Akan said bluntly in the face of such concern, crouching down to pick at the dirt where the beast had dissolved. Bringing a small clump to his mouth before spitting back fiercely, wiping his hand free on his leggings before rising once again. " _Perhaps not. Either way, it felt worth it."_

 _"I'm glad. At least I'll bear that comfort in mind before I face divine punishment!"_ Dearg said sourly, shaking his head. _"What do we...!? Akan!? What are you...!?"_

His Leader had already shoved passed him, moving to the very edge of the cliff, ruffling his Hund behind her ears as he went.

A look of determined excitement writ in his features as he rolled his broad shoulders, running through a routine of light stretches and breaths, leaping in place...

" ** _Akan!?_** "

" _Divine punishment hasn't found me yet, it seems."_ The youth held up a hand to his ear, listening to the far-off thunder, nodding to himself with a look of mock seriousness. _"Until it does, my soon-to-be-beloved awaits! If I don't keep my word, how will she ever come to respect me, eh?"_ He cocked his head innocently with a wide smile, one Dearg struggled to return.

 _"You..."_ The man stroked at his beard, his earlier consternation far from absent, but buried. _"You are a strange creature, you know that?"_ He grimaced, as though just noticing something. _"Take a proper damned weapon at least!"_ He held out his _Long Fang_ towards him.

 _"And give my opponent such a disadvantage?"_ His friend waved off the spear playfully. _"Where's the fun in that!?"_

 _"You'll **die,** Madman!"_

 _" **T** **hat** dourness, Brother! **That** is why none shall remember your name in the days ahead!"_ Akan called back, checking the fit of his plated gauntlets and boots in a hopping mantra to stir the blood. The amusement clear in his tone as he bowed to his allies before quite literally leaping over the edge with a final mocking salute. _" But they'll remember **mine,** I'll make sure of that!"_

"And I was right, wasn't I? On both counts," the man beside me said, having sat down on his haunches in perfect imitation of the young man standing before us.

Marigold's training allowed me to see the subtle cues, mannerisms, and ticks that both shared even in different forms, as well as pick out the distinct differences that existed.

"None remember his name today. Either of them. How they fall in ignominy at the hands of a Traitor in his stolen Keep."

"...Traitor? What are you...! No, no, no, _NO,_ don't you...!?"

Before I could spit out a retort or ask any sort of question, the world crumbled around me again. Rushing in once more in a blinding tide of black and red...

* * *

 _ **-Shane Cooper-**_

 ** _...sO muCh REd..._**

"Ah, c'mon, no use bein' sore 'bout all this!" I called jovially, leaning further into the Dust-fueled warmth of the space heater, which was our only present defense against the frigid chill of the cavern's interior, well aside from tempers, that is.

Maxi muttered something unintelligible in reply - a curse or insult, knowing her - as she focused on the propped sketchbook that had quietly consumed her attention these last few hours.

A fact that hadn't gone unnoticed or unremarked upon... as if she cared.

"What's the matter? Thought you enjoyed making shite go boom? Few bombs is all. Should be easy enough, right?" Enough to set up a proper ambush, according to the bastard in charge of this operation, drawing the Red Hand punks from their little hole and _*BOOM.*_

My eyes drifted to the corner of our little shared space. Various pieces of metal, plastics, and variously-sized vials of Dust spread about haphazardly in its own approximation of chaotic organization. Enough raw materials to blow the head clean off a Goliath, or so that panther prick Swart and his goons had attested when they'd ' _procured_ ' them for Maxi's use.

"That's _not_ the point!" That retort was loud and clear, if delivered with little to nothing of the passion such comebacks usually held. Now I was frowning, scratching at a few of my itching facial scales awkwardly. "Damn it, shut up and let me focus. I've almost...!"

My leader almost appeared inward on herself, knees drawn up, and her face pressed almost flush to the paper while the pencil she held delivered another barrage of minuscule stabbing strokes and scribbles, adjusting details more than likely.

I'd seen her do this enough times before to see the signs, and knew her well enough to see the true frustration billowing beneath the cracking mask of casual grinning irritation she usually bore with such vapid gusto.

Judging by the state of the mangled dummy on the other side of the room - a sparking Atlas Droid covered head to toe in spray paint, with one of her _Barghest_ axes driven home to the hilt through its still-twitching, split mechanical skull - she'd already tried to work out her problem the old fashioned way... at least for her. And apparently, given the lack of a body named Cerise anywhere nearby, she was, of course, defaulting to the next hobby of self-expression.

And that could all only point to one thing. The dreams were coming again, and coming bad this time. I'd bet almost anything on it.

It had even gotten to the point that Marley had been willing to suffer through Grimm watch with the arrogant dunderheads Swart considered competent rather than put up with Maxi's moods, leaving me to take the brunt of it. So kind of the little lynx...

"You sure you got time for that? We need those rigs ready if Swart's plan's gonna work. Whatever it is."

 _ **...riP...TeAr...**_

I threw caution to the winds, attempting to distract her, or at least get her head back on straight by dangling a carrot.

"Look, if you wanna screw things up for him, I get it. The guy's a class-A shite-stain in my book. Thing is, our Pack gets caught up in it same as his, and I'd rather like to come back from this - whatever it is - in one piece. Savvy?"

"He wants _bombs,_ ya know that right? One piece isn't really what they do." She made an offhand gesture that was apparently supposed to mean some kind of detonation. "Sorta the point."

"Well, you _are_ the expert here, after all. S'pose I'll just defer to the 'Mistress of Mayhem,' then."

A short juddering bow to accompany the praise, minus the once simple dashing grace with the addition of more halting sudden motion. That and a twitching tremor I couldn't quite seem to shake no matter how I tried, all unnoticed by the girl sitting in front of me.

"What, no banter? You used to kick my ass for that one. 'Mad Maxi,' 'Doggie Dominatrix,' 'Barking Bad-Ass...' I can go on."

"Operative term is ' _used to._ ' Bit busy, if you haven't noticed."

Too busy to scrap or snap. Something was _very_ wrong with this picture. Maybe it had something to do with the one in her lap, but from the way she was hunched over, I couldn't quite get a proper look.

"Was it...? No, that's not right, is it?... Were they frowning, or looking off towards... Shit! _Shit!"_ She shook her head in a flurry mess or auburn, furrowed brow scrunched tight with effort. "It isn't _right!_ It's _never...Graaagh!_ "

It was a tenuous balance, as I'd discovered of everything having to do with the Blood Hounds and Project APEX... The burning anticipatory tingle in my nerves at the thought of the hard case hanging off my waist, of the contents sloshing within mixed perfectly for me and me alone... Just one hit. Maybe a little press to take the edge off...

 _ **...a LItTle HeRe...sWeEt...soOo SweeT...**_

 _'No... No focus...!'_ I shook my head out with a low growl, fighting to regain my composure. It was growing harder, I'd noticed with each passing day. My own moods... Though if Maxi noticed or felt anything about the tiny slip, she kept it quiet. Her bloodshot eyes were fixed on the image swiftly taking shape in her lap.

"...Is it Swart?"

" _Fuck no,_ it isn't fucking... Dammit, _c'mon!_ " Maxi raged, scratching out a rare mistake as though the mark had personally insulted the Faunus to her face. "Who gives a shit about him!? Dad... _Commander Argus_ was the one that put the bastard in charge, and stuck us along on his dumb little mission... _Gah!_ Doesn't matter! You can let Swarty know I'll get him his shit later. What's there to complain about?"

"Plenty, apparently."

She growled at that. As in _actually_ growled. Sorta endearing... sorta terrifying. Must get it from her father's side.

I sighed, shaking my head at my Pack Leader's antics. Sometimes, it was all too easy to forget the brutal Blood Hound legacy was also a young girl, with plenty of her own problems to worry about, Butcher's Brew or no. Might've been the tattoos throwing me off. They made her look older. Yeah... No, that wasn't it at all.

Strange, given this Maxi was the one he recalled interacting with the most, the rest of her lost to the Butcher's Song once the fighting started. Then she just became the bloodiest, most beautiful thing he'd ever seen bossing him around. Her anger and fury guiding my own and Marley's both, keeping us focused.

More than once I'd snapped back to reality after a fight with dirt in my mouth, and more than a few bruises from Maxi beating me back into line.

She cared, in her own way. Men like Swart and other Pack Leaders would've probably let me run off and get into more trouble than I could handle, too busy satisfying their own need to vent. But not her. Not Maxine Argus. _She_ gave a damn.

And I owed her for that more than I could really put into words. It was almost enough to make me regret the power the Brew offered.

 _...Almost._

"Alrighty, so if it's definitely not Smarmy Swart-ass... Cerise, then?"

Her hunched shoulders stiffened visibly at the Alpha Prime's name. Her posture was rigid as the telltale rattling of loose objects in the grips of gravitic change began to play throughout the echoing space.

Her Semblance... Man, she really was messed up. I hadn't seen one of these freak outs in a while. Not since... Well, that's what she got for sleeping with crazy. Still...

"...It's not her."

"I'm not judgin' ya. It's just if you, uh... You wanna talk about stickin' it to crazy, I mean, I might be able to..."

The answer to that question was obvious enough at a glance.

If I hadn't had more than enough experience dealing with the weird and terrifying already, then I might actually have pissed myself at the glower she delivered.

As it was, I just felt the thrumming violence stirred up by what lingering Brew still clung about to my system. My hand twitched for that stupid fancy curved knife hanging over my shoulder on a patchwork sling.

Silly as it was, every time I touched the blighted thing, I seemed to end up bleeding myself more than the target. Marley and Maxi both said I ought to toss the useless piece of junk and have done with it. Thing is, every time I came close, I _always_ hesitated like dropping a friend, even if that friend was a self-righteous, vindictive little prick with a habit of slipping its edge where it didn't belong.

But that wasn't important. Maxi was. Blind, easy confidence was harder these days, the anger and the Butcher's Brew mixing white hot in my veins setting ever sensation alight. Still, a shaky smile was better than none, even if it was half-snarl.

" _Oooo-kay,_ if not her, then..." I was just stabbing at guesses now that it was becoming clearly evident the woman wasn't going to spill up about her problems.

Maybe distract her, that might **OpeN hEr Up, seE wHat'S InSide**...

 _NO! N_ ot like that, though... _**though it had worked for others**_... No, _focus_!

"What'cha working on now?" Before I realized what was happening, I was standing over her hunched silhouette, danger signs already popping up in my head, only to be ignored as all caution was thrown to the winds. "Certainly looks like... _something_."

What, exactly, I couldn't quite be certain of. A roughly sketched background that might have been a rooftop vantage, going by minute shapes that I took to be buildings spread in the background below. Distance stole away the detail, but they seemed oddly ornate, like a castle.

More so than anything I'd ever seen before, that was for certain, but even so, wherever Maxi was, it must've been pretty high up. That alone was odd, knowing her.

Heights and Argus didn't mix. Learned that early on, and never really forgot it.

Anyway, the main focus of the drafted piece wasn't the architecture, however, nor the scant impressions of what might have been explosions playing across the night sky in brilliant detonations. Or at least, I assumed it was supposed to be night, given the hastily-scrawled stars drawn in afterthought. But the figure it depicted in the foreground was what claimed center stage.

A slight distinctly male build, unassuming in the extreme, all dressed up in a ruffled tuxedo minus his jacket, and leaning against a parapet seemingly glancing back out at Maxine and now myself with what might have been an awed grin.

I say 'might have' because the features were almost utterly nonexistent, having been drawn, worked over, and then thoroughly erased so many times, the page had frayed and smudged beneath the frantic artist's ministrations. The vaguest impressions of spiked hair and a pointed jawline and a blurred impression of shape instead of an arm were all that truly stood out, and even those had the air of uncertainty about them. An abstract quality that had no place in what I knew of Maxi's photographic stylings.

And that was eating her up, that much was plain to see. "It's nothing..." Maxi spat back, bringing the book closer to her chest in an attempt that clearly said it was anything but. "Just... Just something dumb I was trying. New, er... New method. Mantle progressivist thing back from when they actually mattered. Kinda shitty, I know, but..."

"Ya do realize I'm not buyin' any of that garbage, right?" I returned the poor excuse with a flat stare, brow raised in that way I knew annoyed her. Annoyance was better than whatever _this_ was, that was for damn certain. "Your ears, they twitch when you bluff." Seemingly panicked by the notion, her hands shot up to the canine traits that had just shot up right atop her scalp seemingly on reflex. "Not those, the _other_ ones." I pointed to my own. "Kinda cute, actually."

"What the hell're you... No they don't!"

Gritting her teeth, Maxi still nonetheless paused to check as though by some morbid curiosity, scowling when she finally noticed the way I was clutching my sides.

It might have resulted in a none too small stone clocking me in the side of the head none too gently, and a renewed flare up in my blood to strike back in earnest, but it was worth it to see any other expression but worry writ across her expression.

" _Asshole!_ "

" _Heh-heh..._ That's more like it." I chuckled even as my head pounded, picking myself up from the hard floor to sit cross-legged across from her. "Really? 'Mantle Progressivist?' I grew up in that snow-capped waste of space, Boss." Or I spent more than enough time there I might as well have. Oh, the joys of life as a Faunus. "You gotta bullshit harder than that, at least with me. Don't even think Marley would've bought that one."

And that was saying something. Raye Marley was a damn good fighter, and damn good at a lot of things, if I were to be perfectly honest. APEX's ideal candidate, which didn't exactly oft require a sense for subtlety and such. With the Brew in her, well...

"So, you gonna tell me what this..., er, guy? What this guy means, or am I gonna have to keep bugging you over it till you do? And you will, I can promise you that." I sounded confident, a fact for which I was quite proud, given the way her handaxe suddenly sprang to life unbidden. The cavern suddenly filled with the revving screech of abused metal being chewed apart by razor-etched teeth that bit deeper and deeper, until the twitching android finally stopped its, well... _twitching._ "C'mon. Don't make me beg."

" _Please_ tell me you aren't this persistent with those harpies you keep back at the base."

"I'll have you know I am the perfect gentlemen, thank you very much." And I was, or at least I had been. Trysts were something of a difficulty when the Brew was fueling your actions, swooping in at the most inopportune moments, often with the worst results. "Ladies deserve me at my best, after all."

Still couldn't quite get that Comm Tech's terrified gaze out of my head, the way she'd cowered back at the way I'd... Well, her jealous ex wasn't getting up after what I did to him. Worse still was that I hadn't meant to do it. Not like that... Not like... But no regrets. No regretting the Brew... And no more trysts... I wouldn't risk...

"Funny, aren't I a ' _lady?_ ' Where's _my_ best?"

"I think we both know the answer to that question." Probably deserved a good slap for that, at least from any normal girl. Maxine just laughed that wonderful barking snort of hers, and thankfully set the pad and pen aside, though in a way where the image was never quite absent from her gaze. Still, progress is progress, as they said back home. "So, Mystery Man, again? The apple-smelling one?"

She nodded, that one act seeming to sap the brief-lived spark of vitality right out of her. "Fucking gods... I'm _actually_ crazy, aren't I?"

"From where I'm sitting... yeah?" I rapped a knuckle lightly on the hard case at my hip, keenly aware of the contents jostling within. "Could certainly be worse, though. We're all a little messed up, Maxi. It's why we're in this outfit. Heck, pretty sure most of us are way more than 'just a little.'"

It was the Butcher's Brew, or maybe not. Maybe that was just an excuse,

If there was anything I'd learned struggling with its embrace, it was that this poison, this drug, this... _gift..._ it wasn't some vindictive source of malice. It was a amplifier, a boost for what was already present dwelling deep down in the souls of those who used it. Strained through layers of inhibition-numbing chemicals and nerve-blowing stimulants perhaps, but present nonetheless.

A scary thought, one that kept me up at night more than once wondering at the best mistake I'd ever made. Then the Song would come, tantalizingly sweet just on the edge of hearing, lulling me back to a sense of the new normalcy.

Maxi didn't know what she was missing... A part of me I'd never admit to hoped she never would.

"Sure, your mind's a bit foggy at times. So what? From what you've said, you're damn lucky to be alive after what those Trappers did to ya." She nodded again hesitantly, as though she didn't quite believe what I was selling. "And its only the past right? The small details? Doesn't effect the now and what will be. Not unless you let it."

"But I _am_ letting it! That's the damn problem!"

I winced at the vehemence echoing through the cave, Maxi doing so as well with those blessed ears of hers. Still, her temper was roused now, burning hot. Hot enough to nearly stoke the fires in my own breast if I weren't careful enough. I had to be careful, though. This was my friend. My first friend in the midst of all this mess and bloody business.

"I keep seeing this... this _guy._ " She jabbed a paint-splattered nail towards the sketchbook accusingly, as though blaming it for the fact it was incomplete. "Again and again, moments at a time, but the details never fucking sticks! It's like... I don't know, something's just dangling it over my head like some damn bone, always snatching it back whenever I try to pin anything down!"

A dog howling at the moon, then... I grimaced, but was content to let her tirade continue, knowing this was for the best.

Maxine Argus burned hot, and sometimes liked to bottle all that heat up inside until it was fit to burst. Just like her bombs, however, that pressure had to go somewhere.

Best not for it to be on someone or some _ones_ she'd regret later.

I wanted to ask if anything new had come up about this 'Sonia' person, that specter that had seemingly dogged my Alpha for as long as I'd known her. Since that first bloody day back in the Pit, on the sand with all that blood...

 **BlOOd gUsHing WaRM AnD...** _**NO!**_

No, not the focus. ' _Sonia._ ' There was something to that name. Problem was, every time it came up, the Dog Faunus had one of two reactions.

Either she'd have no inkling as to why I was asking, even though I was certain I'd gone over the significance with her a dozen times before. The name refused to stay rooted in her mind, every time drifting after a few moments, until Maxi would smack me, and ask what the hell I was on about.

Or... Or she'd simply snap, and that was never a good thing, the scars on my chest tingling at the thought. Distant roars of a fury unlike anything I'd ever seen - and certainly had no wish to see again - echoed in my mind.

I'd seen the Commander rage before, and never had Father and Daughter been so clearly related as in that brief minute of madness. One that had almost seen the Pit crashing down on all our heads on occasion. So yeah. I quit asking after that. Never say I didn't learn from my mistakes.

"Don't even know who this guy is. Could just be some nobody; some schmuck from nowhere meaning fuck all to no one..." She didn't believe that, and I didn't need her senses to tell it from the barest tremor in her voice. "...I hate it. I _hate_ not knowing."

"Yeah, that comes across pretty clear." Another pebbled whacked me upside the head, coloring the grin I wore with a flicker of fury that she noticed, and didn't react to. Bless her heart, she knew me from well... _that_ me. "Thing is, do ya ever wonder if there's a reason for that?"

"Why my mind's busted, you mean?"

"Nah! Well... _maybe?... Ack!?_ I get it! I get it!" Another few pebbles, harder this time. I was starting to enjoy this more than I should have. "Something's keeping you from figuring this out, right? What if that's your brain telling you to just... I don't know, drop it?"

"Then it shouldn't go around showing me like some damn tease, now should it!?" she snarled back snappily, crossing her inked arms, and brooding sourly.

The posture would have been almost cute were it not for the subtle shaking I could feel rippling through the cavern. Maxi hated this place. She said it reminded her of something, though what she'd been distinctly referring to, she was hesitant to say. Only that she remembered something like it coming down...

Here's hoping she wasn't gearing up for a repeat.

Thankfully, it seemed she wasn't, her stance relaxing, and the tremors subsiding after a few tense moments, distant curses from Marley and others echoing through the cave network.

"Maxi, you good?"

"...Would _you_ do it?" she asked, slowly reaching out to pick up the sketch pad, running a finger with uncharacteristic gentleness over the vague figure. "Drop it, I mean. Could you do that?"

It wasn't a fair question. She desired a lie, and I was damn ready to give one to her if it would help... But it _wouldn't._ She wanted a lie, but she needed the truth. She was my Alpha; my Pack. That meant looking out for her, and watching her back... At least, that's what it meant to us, even if the other Blood Hounds laughed about it behind our backs.

"Nah... I don't suppose I could," I admitted, half expecting more stones or maybe even a chainsaw ax to come flying my way. What I wasn't expecting was for the Canine Faunus to sidle up beside me, looking awkward and red-faced as an Atlesian in Vacuo, but seemingly resolute as she offered her sketchpad. "Uh, Maxi, I'm flattered, but, er... not really interested in... Hey, what are you...!?"

She growled something unintelligible, a curse or a joke I couldn't quite make out, her hand shoving the book into my lap, and flipping through pages and pages of curious, and, in many cases, half-finished works. As though the inspiration had simply ceased, which, going by the way of this conversation, might well have been the case.

"You wanted to talk," Maxi said after a few awkward seconds of staring at the first page.

The half-scribbled diagram of what appeared to be the blueprint for an artificial arm surrounded on the edges by things that might have been Grimm, but resembled no breed of nightmare I'd ever seen.

"I'm no good at talking, so I'll need you to help me out with... you get the idea, right? Then I'll work on Swart's bombs for... _Misshū,_ was it? Sure. Reds won't know what hit 'em. Then things can go back to normal."

Or as normal as things ever got around here with us. Probably not a good thing by any margins, not with the Song in my veins or the ghosts in Maxi's skull... but it was our thing.

One could only hope that come a few months, after a few more hits of the Brew with its siren lyrics, that I'd have enough wherewithal to remember it.

I felt I owed this particular girl that much, at least...

* * *

-END

* * *

 **-OC Voice Cast introduced this Chapter-**

Akan - Jason Momoa

* * *

 _ **A/N: Hey all, back from a bit of a trip and still alive and going. Splitting my time between this and other projects, just writing where the passion is at the moment.**_

 _ **In other news, Joel's still in the midst of his little dream quest with an Ancestor while Maxine's getting a little look in after a fair bit of time off. And she and the other Hounds are planning a little trip for...Misshu, what's the worst that could happen?**_

 _ **Anyway hope to be updating again soon and thanks for all the support, y'all keep this story going.**_ _ **-**_ _ **Mojo**_

* * *

 _ **(Next Chapter: Setting off for danger)**_


	33. Chapter 33

**_Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One._**

* * *

BAD REMINDERS

* * *

 _ **-Benjamin Carson-**_

" _Excuse me!?_ "

I halted mid-step, thrusting a glinting Scroll laden with certifications and pre-flight checkoffs back into the hands of a nervous technician, and rounded on an absolutely fuming Jacques Schnee, who was flanked by a pair of hulking security droids, his little snow-spit of an heir lurking in his shadow. Ironwood stood beside me warily, examining the confrontation with one of those stoic frowns he was so good at.

Truth be told, it was a bold move, indeed, confronting me mere hours before my crew and I were set to depart. The _Rock Star_ and its accompanying escorts were fueled up, and in the process of loading, the sleek airship sitting in its berth like some skittish chick waiting to leap from the roost. Hell, the whole hanger was practically abuzz with nervous energy and frantic activity, even before Schnee had turned up with the goon squad.

Hemlock was running through the last security drill with his team members. _JADE_ was safely stowed and accounted for, with only a modicum of fuss. Cherry's Paladin - sorry, her _baby_ \- was just now being shunted in, alongside our singular drop Bullhead. Really, the only one that seemed totally at ease was the Inquisitor Edward Laura from Spearpoint, the scarred soldier's belongings transferred as he stood bandying a few last minute accolades and reassurances with Her Highness and her own set of guards.

The whole lot of them shot furtive glances our way, and rather blatantly, too. Things had simmered down since our... 'unfortunate' first impression and my subsequent formal-ish apology for my behavior, the Queen willing to let bygones be bygones for the sake of the common goal. Of course, she also forwarded a few specific accommodations I was apparently supposed to make for her pet Inquisitor aboard _my_ ship.

 _'...A 'private space to meditate.' Gods, I'm the damn captain, and I can barely fit three bodies in my room on a good day.'_

Atlesian notions regarding the efficient economics of space aside, it was all things I'd need to deal with one way or another. The most notable being his request to work in tandem with _JADE,_ which I'd fully admit to needing a good minute to laugh off.

 _'Maybe I shouldoffer him to Hemlock. Those two would mesh swimmingly, and they could use the Aura for heavy liftin'...'_ I mused, narrowing my eyes at Jacques' little show of looking indignantly at Ironwood. Not when _I_ was the one he was belittling, and to my face, of all things. Imagine that. Going on, and on...

At least it gave my mind something useful to do as it was drifting, brain filing away that little note on Laura for later use as I returned to the matter at hand.

"Y'all really didn't just go and say Weiss was...!?"

"Missing, as you very well know you upjumped, miserable, little reprobate! Snatched in the dead of night!" he spat vehemently, shoving his finger in my face, if keeping it far enough that I couldn't reach out and snatch it. There'd be no repeats of my little introduction in Vale... Another bad first impression, I realized. Something to work on. "My daughter, Carson! Where is she!? I know you have the girl tucked away in here somewhere! I demand you return her to me at once!"

"The ' _girl?_ ' Your _daughter,_ ya mean?"

" _You...!?_ "

"Jacques, remember where we are." Ironwood chimed in, looking towards Spearpoint's delegates rather... _erm,_ pointedly. The lot of them were too far away to eavesdrop, but in the perfect vantage to take guesses. "Please try to be reasonable."

" _Reasonable!?_ " Now it was the General's turn to get an earful from the corporate magnate, though he certainly took it with far more grace. At least on the surface. "This criminal takes my flesh and blood, and you expect me to...!? This isn't some border closure, or some inane worker's legislation, James! If this deluded little experiment of yours has hurt Weiss in any way...!"

"I _don't_ have her, Jac! Ya told me to back off, and I did!" I put on my best sneer, standing up to my full height like Joel used to do back in the day, only I doubted I was pulling it off quite so impressively. Ironwood, though? He was making it look easy. "We had an agreement, remember? 'No purposeful personal contact.' I haven't seen her since that disaster of a charity! I do that, you provide supplies to the Badlands. That was the deal."

Ironwood shot me a wry glance, one I promptly ignored.

"An agreement you so _clearly_ violated! Who else would dare? Would even _think_ to dare!?" he spat back, teeth flashing behind that irritating little lip fuzz he carried on with. Even Whitley flinched back a step. "But I expected no less; of course not. Which is why your people will be receiving what scrap my factories couldn't be bothered to destroy."

At this, my snarl returned in full force. "You _what!?_ "

"You heard me, boy. Frankly, you're rather fortunate the transport has already departed the CCT's range, or I'd be rescinding even that much for this!"

"Y-you... You dirty, rotten...!"

"I demand this ship be searched top to bottom, every piece of luggage checked!"

"This ship is set to depart on a classified mission of crucial importance to Kingdom security, set to leave within the hour." He motioned about to the hubbub of activity, the soldiers focused on their tasks, dutifully ignoring this little song and dance. "It's a crucial window, Jacques. Arranged to maintain operational...!"

"I could care less for your plans, James! If you think I'm going to let him run off to some savage backwater...!"

"Look, Jac, if y'all wanna waste time rippin' apart my ship searchin' for someone who _ain't here,_ go right ahead and do it!" I cut him off, letting a touch of real anger into my voice. Strangely enough, it wasn't too difficult. "Meanwhile, if Weiss really _is_ missin' - possibly in danger, for all we know, like ya say - then I'll be _damned_ if I'm not gonna go do somethin' useful with my time and track my friend down! Mission or no mission!"

"Denied, Specialist." Ironwood cut the idea apart, a gloved hand raised to cut off any arguments I might have held to the contrary. "You'll be on that ship, and on your way according to schedule. As for Weiss..." His stern gaze fell on Jacques, the man backing off a step despite his little honor guard, Whitley following in his lead. "We'll devote resources towards ascertaining her location and the exact nature of her departure. Depending on the circumstances..."

"You...! You would keep that from me, you... you...!?" Strange, to see such a pale face light up like a signal beacon, funny too. Then I remembered the power this man held, the joy mollified somewhat. "This isn't the end, Ironwood!"

"Yes. It is." Ironwood finished for him with an air of abject finality, the two political animals staring one another down until the inevitable Alpha between Beowolves distinguished itself. Schnee retreated from the platform, cursing all the while the youngest Schnee glowered at me from over his shoulder. Resentment I returned with a hearty wave of sympathy.

"...For _now,_ at any rate. I trust you weren't directly involved in the escape?" the General asked when he was certain he wouldn't be overheard, his tone signaling me out as effectively as any spotlight. "No awkward traces to explain?"

" _Feh_... No such thing, much as I would've cared to leave 'em. Went and gave my 'word,' after all." I spat off to the side on reflex, shrugging when I noticed the Atlesian staring. "No purposeful personal contact sought 'tween myself and Weiss Schnee. Letter of the deal."

"Well, I happen to know from experience that deals in the Badlands can be... _malleable_ at times where business is involved." He shrugged a bionic shoulder, face setting into a consistency akin to the cliffs of Spire Point, and just as inviting. "He's still her father, at the end of the day. I'll admit to some reservations."

"'Please know, you'll always have a home at Atlas Academy, Miss Schnee,'" I amicably recited back to the General with a sly smirk, word for word pulled from the depths of a damn good memory. A momentary interaction, if one I'd filed away. "Weiss'll do good, sir, wherever she pops up. More than she ever could locked up- sorry, ' _grounded._ ' Or at the very least she'll have a damn good try at it."

"And it's that uncertainty that worries me, Carson. I'd have preferred her at the Academy, as you well know," he sighed, focusing as Jacques finally fell out of sight before adding in the lowest whisper possible. "As you were ordered to."

I shrugged, trying to make it look as respectful as I could given the circumstances. "Only so much I can do when I'm not directly involved in the operation, sir. 'Sides , strictly speakin', you already have the one, who you know can likely influence the other if the need arises. And it weakens the SDC's position on the Council. A distracted CEO, and no Beacon survivor to go drawin' sympathy with. Not to mention we agreed... Well, I told you it had to be _her_ choice, otherwise it'd have just meant more problems down the road. A motivated Schnee's a powerful thing, only not so fun when it's against ya."

"Hmm... True enough. Specialists do tend to prove more effective with some personal motivation, after all." There was some unsubtle jab there somewhere, I just didn't care to look too deep. "And you _do_ have no idea where she is, yes?"

"Not a clue. On my Mother's... Nah, ain't even gonna entertain _that_ adage." He looked at me askance for a moment before understanding took hold, me just standing there shaking my head and waving a metal hand. "I'd start with Mistral, if anywhere. Towards Winter, and the things she's chasin'. Where I'd go if I was her."

"Not to Vale? To pay respects to Beacon's remains, contact her Professors, gain distance from her father?"

"Nothin' pressin' for her in Vale. Not with half her team absent to parts unknown."

Well, perhaps not _SO_ unknown, but he didn't need to know _everything,_ now did he?

"Wouldn't make sense, not if ya know her. She'd move towards her loved ones. The ones she thinks needs her the most. Least in my professional opinion on the subject."

"And one I'll take under advisement." He straightened up, staring at the small scouting frigate bound to take me and my crew into the dangerous unknown. A beautiful ship, really, which was more than I deserved, and I knew it. "If I don't get the chance to say it again, then let me say that you served effectively, if not always with distinction, performing far better in the field than any, including I, could've expected despite your... unique circumstances upon joining."

"My 'faults,' right? I won't get offended, sir. I was a right handful for a while there. Still am, probably."

Oh, yes I was. Most definitely, and Ironwood damn well knew it, too, going by that frown.

"Been tryin' to work on those bit by bit. Had good people to help me out when I needed a good kick in the ass." From Jacob Ambrose, Weiss herself. Talk about an unlikely reality check. "But even so, I'm pretty shocked I didn't wind up in a jail cell, given the whole... uh..." I trailed off, not daring to voice the connection we shared. The one all but foisted on me by his truly. And Ozpin, blighted bastard... "Erm... Permission to speak freely?"

"...Oh, why not?" he sighed, shaking his head. "Permission granted."

"Y'all really should've just locked me up, or gotten rid of me sooner." It was all rather matter a fact, simmering beneath the surface since the first instant I'd stepped foot in the cold shoulder of a Kingdom. "I was a shit choice for a Fall Warden, or whatever it was when you and Ozpin raised the question, and an even worse Specialist when it came down to it... 'least in the whole serious, wind-up solder bit y'all seemed to expect. Instead, you and Winter took an ill-prepared kid sittin' pretty in a really dark place, gave him a blasted ship and a juicy target to chase down, and then expected him to just go and conform? How'd that work out?"

"I'll admit to some... misguided sentimentality in that regard," he admitted after a pause, with what looked to be genuine emotion crossing his features. "You're correct, what Ozpin and I asked of you - intended _for_ you - was... It was cruel. One of our less sound ideas, I'll admit, and far from our first. I felt some fair responsibility for you, Benjamin. Seeing some of myself in you, in more ways than just the obvious."

The way in which he said that, it wasn't just my mind or my meager talents. Weirdly enough, I had to wonder on exactly what this man's story was. Just when had Ozpin gone and scooped him up? What was going on behind those stark cheekbones?

"However, I did mean what I said back then. Had you applied yourself - _truly_ applied yourself - then I think you would be surprised at exactly what you could achieve here in Atlas," he affirmed. "That, and your value was far too great to languish in Vale or in a cell. Beacon needed a face to sell it to the masses. A disaster like that, rumor and gossip just doesn't do it justice. Take pride in that, if nothing else. I doubt we'd have raised even half of what was provided for Vale's reconstruction efforts without you."

"And it probably doesn't hurt that it scared up support for your security border initiatives either, I bet?" I remarked sarcastically, before shrugging it off with a casual, confident Carson-brand smirk. "Anyway, I appreciate it, sir. For what it's worth, between me and the rest of the heroes on that ship, we might just have a chance of pullin' this little deathtrap off."

"Always a few words too many, Carson. And never nearly enough accountability." I chuckled despite myself, unsurprised to find the stern man not exactly playing along. "You have all the tools Atlas can willingly provide at your disposal to succeed in this task, and a fair bit more besides."

Suddenly curious, I followed the stretch of his gaze further down the embarkation, catching sight of Jacob Ambrose's familiar bulk marching down the causeway. A harried Garret was following insistently in his wake, shoving that tablet at the young man, the pair also made more conspicuous as they were accompanied by perhaps the strangest example of an AK-Drone I'd ever lad eyes on.

It was of a humanoid design standing maybe a bit taller than even the young Professor, which was certainly saying something seeing as the guy happened to habitually tower over everyone he met whenever he bothered to stand up straight. Thin, almost skeletal limbs of steel plating were edged in a jade trim, and threaded throughout with pulsing green power lines, carrying it gracefully, if maybe a might assuredly along in its charge's wake in perfect accommodation for Baby Ambrose's awkward gait. Those delicate arms easily managed to support what looked to be the entire contents and varied machinery of a lab shoved into two thick crates hefted under each arm.

The weirdest thing was that it didn't exactly seem... finished, at least not in my professional opinion. And I'd disassembled more than a few in my time to be called an expert.

Pieces of its chassis were missing, if oddly feminine after a fashion, exposing networks, rushed circuitry, and haphazard cabling leading into a compact if dented backpack affixed to the back. Bright emerald lenses were alight from a mostly featureless face lacking any distinctive design quirks, or even the visor-equipped helms of the android models I was used to, opting instead for what looked almost like... Wait, were those supposed to be eyebrows?

 _'...Why in the Gods' green Remnant would a droid need **eyebrows?** '_

More, why did the man require a droid at all? As an assistant? Well, if such was indeed the case, then it'd be the only such addition to the _Rock Star's_ manifest if I had any say, which of course I did. I'd already spent too many nights waking up in a cold sweat, dreaming of _that_ night. Staring down at a burning Kingdom, watching Atlas Drones on the march, gunning down fleeing bodies in the streets of Vale.

No, Spearpoint and Ironwood could complain all they liked on that score. And I'd certainly be having a talk with the boy wonder himself.

"Do keep a close watch, won't you? Consider that an order, soldier."

"Aye, sir. Understood!"

I snapped an involuntary salute, a real one, all prim and proper as could be. It'd been an honor, I supposed, to learn from him, if not wholly a pleasure.

The General took that for the complement it was as he turned to rejoin the tag-alongs and aids swarming at the edges of sight at a polite distance. The rigors of Governance were never done, it seemed. Just another reminder of why I never wanted to get into politics, if Schnee's little extortion tactic hadn't been enough.

"Atlas might have need of men like us to maintain its safety, but Remnant requires souls like him to see us all forward." He paused, hands clasped behind his back as though simply enjoying the icy chill perforating the hanger bay. "What my Kingdom can't abide, however, is men like him falling into the hands of our enemy. I mean it, Carson. Take care of him. For all our sakes."

I understood the meaning, of course I did. Hell, I even respected the fact that he'd have the steel-plated will to actually voice it to me, given my relationship to the young man and his family. Moreover, I appreciated that the General hadn't come out and tried to order me into it like one of his wind-up toys. He played on my logic, knowing I'd understand him well enough.

Didn't stop me from cursing the name of James Ironwood under my breath as we parted ways, though, or help the nausea squirming in my guts as I moved to greet the Professor along the embarkation deck. The way was impeded by a dozen small interactions in the span of a few minutes. From deckhands saluting the 'Bandit of Beacon,' and wishing me good fortune, and supervisors running through last minute manifests I'd memorized hours before. I'd even endured a last stony little farewell from the Queen Rona Avium of Spearpoint, herself, honored be her name, and all that traditional clout, by the time I'd managed to reach my destination.

Suffice it to say, I'd rather wrestle a Taijitu minus an arm and ass flapping in the wind than stay in her presence any longer than was strictly necessary, and not just because of her 'friendly' goons. We'd both grown up cleverer than our peers, both of us driven in our own ways. Thing is, we were just too damn different. Weird to think we could've been kin, given different circumstances.

Suffice it to say, I was almost glad to take hold of Echo's proffered tablet when I came upon the odd little trio. Ambrose directed a pair of loader drones to relieve his... his manservant? No, that just didn't seem right in this case, the thing rocking in place on its heels to the steady thrum of servo-motors... Some kind of balancing issue?

"Y'all ready for this, Specs?" I asked, tearing my eyes from the unnerving drone to grin at the young genius in his little modified Atlas uniform already stained liberally with oils and grime. "Last chance to back out, y'know."

"Is it really?" Jacob Ambrose grunted, stopping to make a minor adjustment to the bared heel of iron-shod prosthesis he clopped around on... out in the open, actually, which struck me as odd. A note he seemed to have picked up on, going by the weary shrug he provided. "It's not like I really needed boots, after all. Just thought it more polite to help people not stare, though something tells me that won't be much of a problem on this voyage."

He motioned towards my arm with a lazy finger, though his gaze darted of course towards the host of other little adjustments he'd made. My arm, the studs across my brow, my knee and more besides...

"Nah, don't suppose it will," I grinned back, sliding a metal digit across the glowing screen with a sharp * _PING.*_ "Could've mentioned the extra modes on this prototype, though. Bit of a surprise" I held up the pearly white-plated hand not so dissimilar from those the surrounding droids and Ambrose's strange associate utilized, the palm casing adjusting, and mecha-shifting to reveal underlying circuitry while individual digits lengthened and split.

By the time it was finished, nine individual 'fingers' handled the tablet, three thick prongs including what I supposed was still a thumb moving to support the device while those remaining clattered dexterously in response to the signals the implant in my skull provided. It was awkward going at first, but soon enough, they were flitting across the screen dismissing alerts, signing documents, and fulfilling updates while Echo and Ambrose looked on, each of them impressed.

"Something Allison suggested to provide greater tactile variability, improve response time, etc... I'm rather surprised you've adapted to it so well in so short a time. I'd meant to provide an overview when we boarded. Things you might find interesting."

"Wouldja be so kind? See, I figured this little trick out in the bathroom the other day. Bit awkward, ya might expect. 'Least till I figured what was goin' on. Then I found the knife and the ranged deterrents. _Lotsa_ fun," I said blithely, managing to devote a pair of the digits into an approximation of a particular gesture with a bit of mental gymnastics, one that made the young man's cheeks burn red in the cold. "So yeah, I'd rather you fill me in on exactly what it is I'm cartin' round in here. Pretty please?"

"Was wondering why we were stuck paying damages to the Dust Museum Committee," Echo muttered, blanching at the waggling multi-jointed finger I directed his way. The image was rather amusing, creepy as it was at times... Something to get used to. "S-sorry! Sorry, sir!"

" _Soooo,_ anymore surprises I should know about?" I said, stepping up towards the patchwork droid and staring into those glittering emerald focusing lenses. "The hell are you lookin' to see onto my ship, Specs? Don't exactly have a whole lotta operatin' room to spare."

" _Em..._ About that, Carson. We need to...!" the young Frontiersman began until he was abruptly cut off, shoulders slumping at the sound of a high-pitched squeal of glee that made my teeth ring in my skull. That little shock giving way to something else entirely the moment I made out the sound of words amidst the static of distorted excitement.

 **" _Sal-u-tations, Specialist Benjamin Carson! It's such a pleasure to finally be meeting with you in person!"_**

Echo's tablet slipped from spasming tactile fingers that had suddenly lost all feeling, my aide barely managing to snatch it up in time before it hit the ground. His struggles were lost on me, my eyes fixated on what should've been impossible.

 ** _"Oh you have no idea how long I've waited... Specialist Benjamin Carson? A warning, I'm detecting an increased heart rate, dilation of the pupils, elevated blood pressure. Query: Are perhaps you experiencing undue stress...!?"_**

"Y-yeah," I gaped, suddenly dry-mouthed, responding to what could only have been a ghost.

Remembering all too well the circumstances of my last sight of that poor, poor girl. Emotions flooded back all at once. Fear, sadness, confusion, bitter anger for the memory...

"Somethin' like that."

* * *

 _ **-Elizabeth Briar-**_

 _"Stay alive. Do what's needed to survive, even if it means dragging yourself along kicking and screaming to do it. Protect each other. Keep the other safe..."_

Those had been Master's parting words, at least according to Joel, at any rate. Callous, but I hadn't exactly been in any fit state to judge after my little... 'training session.' And besides, the main point was clear enough, and the big lug had followed through with his end of the deal in Akai-Hana.

I eased into the next stretch, legs folded opposite to either side suspended between the propped bench and the shoddy cabinet before the window. Tendons and abdominal muscles flexed and strained as they had for the last half hour I'd been holding the pose. Supporting my full weight, sweat dripping in thin rivulets as I strained to balance the offset the dead, tingling lumps that hung in place of my arms... at least for now.

Out of shape, laziness, laxity... Just like this whole situation. We'd gotten complacent.

 _'Still, no one ever said anything about crazy relics and dead voices in their heads...'_

Marigold planned for a lot, as such was in her nature, but even _she_ couldn't have foreseen...

" _Sooooo,_ I've gotta a quandam, or, uh... quanfary, miss. If you don't mind?"

Interestingly enough, in the midst of my little meditative slump, I'd somehow managed to forget I wan't alone in the dreary shack. The little Faunus brat was kicking his little legs enthusiastically, and humming a tune atop the pile of straw and wooden slats that here in Mistral seemed to qualify as a bed frame.

Poor country bumpkins... At any rate, the interruption was jarring enough, slowly and carefully easing myself down to sit down in the padded chair I'd propped for just such an occasion. And probably disappointing the little pervert by the way his heart skipped at the loss of free entertainment I supposed. Forehead slumping forward against the window sill with an audible groan as a clammy forehead met the chilled pane.

The view without was little better between the rotting paneling, truth be told. A grand view of a forest held tight in the grips of permafrost, with nearby Misshu just visible along the horizon. Maybe a half hour's walk down the hillside forest paths.

'An old Hunter's lodge,' the stray runt had said when he'd first dragged me out here.

An early warning post to signal for approaching Grimm, complete with its own little bell tower affixed to the roof. Long abandoned, the whole structure so riddled with mites and mold I'd not gone to tug the gently swaying line of rope affixed to the rusted bell for fear it might snap and bring the whole thing down on my head.

My Trapper friend had even been out with a few of his men, ostensibly 'checking' the structure, and declaring it a rather quaint reminder of his early patrols back when he was a normal Huntsman. A clear lie, seeing as I'd doubted he'd ever been even this far outside the walls for any longer than it took to make sure there wasn't a horde breaking down the town's necks.

During their little inspection, Kazuki had secreted himself away in the woods nearby, unwilling to show himself for obvious reasons. The Host was suspicious of how I'd come across this place, but took my story about overhearing old town rumors well enough. Especially when I turned on the whole helpless girl act... Priceless.

"Alright, first off, Kazu. You mean 'quandary?' Quan-dar-y."

I chuckled bitterly, imagining the little pout on his reddening cheeks without even needing to turn around. So easy to tease, this one. Actually kind of reminded me of Eddy whenever he'd... And my expression soured, just like that. Right along with my mood.

"I'll give you credit for the vocabulary, but just say the question next time. Speeds things up."

" _Oooookay,_ fine, I have a question then."

"Runts your age always do," I grimaced, feeling a tinge of painful heat run down my shoulder, shifting position to compensate. "And you don't call me 'miss.' Gods... Makes me sound like some dumb schoolteacher."

Just like that, the pencil-skirt secretary in Beacon Joel was always going on about, Goodwitch, came across my mind. Famous Huntress, career and skills most would kill for, and she ends up playing second fiddle to some grey-haired disappointment for years, winding up Headmistress of a broken school...

But the innocence he shoved into the question, and the burning ache in my thighs... Weak, _weak, WEAK..._

"A-ah... Oh, of all the... _Fine!_ Just the one?"

The kid actually started, shocked I was actually entertaining the idea, and excited all at once. Typical boy. Give him an inch...

"Er, _several,_ actually. Like what's the deal with your, uh... y'know?" I heard clapping, flesh on flesh, so I could only assume he was tapping his arm. Funny how fast the kid had adjusted to the fact I didn't exactly need to see everything to know what was going on. Though come to think of it, his first few escape attempts had probably wised him up.

That, or he was just getting uppity... Chafing at the leash I'd enforced...

"And then there's the whole 'you're a Trapper, but you don't want the other Trapper or the rest of the Red Hand to like _knooooow_ you're a Trapper' thing. So you're having me help you hide out in some abandoned shed like this in the middle of nowhere outside the walls, rather than stuck up in their barracks and getting all the luxury treatment. It's just..."

"Weird? Right. Get used to that."

I leaned back in my seat and shot him a wink as reward for his deduction, the little redhead's feline tail bristling even as he did his best to vanish inside that ratty coat of his.

"The arms were... training. And yes, even Trappers have to do that once in a while." A bit of shoulder rolling, the sharp glass dragging on tender skin feeling significantly dulled in recent days. Whether that was a good thing or not...

 _'Just you wait. Gonna pay off big time. Or_ _at least it **better,** Marigold...'_

I flexed numb fingers, feeling... _something._ A thrum of potential coursing through my nerves, hot and cold, crackling like a storm trapped in the palm of my hand.

 _'Soon. **Very** soon. Just a little more...'_

" _Riiight_. Thing is, you didn't answer the other...?" A sharp glare. Not my best, but enough to get my point across. No need to have the boy soiling himself, at least not while he was on my bed, anyway. " _...'Kaaaay,_ point taken. Shutting up now."

Blissful silence, for all of about a minute or two before he inevitably broke down and resumed. Small miracles the little kitten had lasted that long.

 _'And now he's with me...'_ I groaned just at the thought of it, wondering what Marigold would say if she saw me with a little pet, and a Faunus, of all things, too. _'...By the gods. How would the me of months before react...?'_

" _Soooo_ if you can't join up with them, what's the plan? You _do_ have a plan, don't you? I heard Trappers always have plans."

"Yep, we do. And this one's called 'Keeping my head down and firmly stuck to my neck. Waiting for Sleeping Beauty to wake his ass up' or something just abouts." Yep, definitely getting uppity on me, that raised eyebrow practically sending up smoke signals. "After that, not your problem. We'll be gone, and you'll... do what you've been doing, I suppose."

" _Annnnd_ if your partner _doesn't_ wake up?" He tugged at the strap keeping that weird little beat up fiddle of his tight across his back, shifting in place awkwardly at the sudden silence that stretched for almost a full minute before the atmosphere all but demanded an answer. "Er... Look, it's just the way you said it, and I've already told you those hacks they call Nurses still have no idea why he's...!?"

"He'll wake up. He's got to," I said quietly, hoping against hope it would be true, though not really knowing... No. No, I knew what I would do. Thing is, I didn't want to think about it.

Needing something, _anything,_ to use as a distraction, I noticed my little guest/minion poking around in the satchel lying at the foot of the bed.

His grubby little hands closed about a leather bound book cracked with age and near-constant attention, the letters _'W.M'_ stamped into a bronze clasp along the side. It's yellowed pages were dog-eared and thick with addendum, little nick-knacks, among other scribbled notes. One such mark fell out, a faded picture smudged from sweat and handling, showing a face I really didn't need to think about right now.

"Put that back."

"Hmm, what? Is it like the other thing I wasn't supposed to touch?" He cocked his head towards the cylinder of spun blue-tinged silver perched on the bedside table like the paperweight it might as well have been, that curious stone inset pulsing every so often along a pattern I'd found impossible to keep track of. "The normie-proofed thing? This book gonna stab me if I don't... _Whoa!_ Is this...!? This is _Magic,_ isn't it!?"

Heedless, he opened the book to a random page, eyes widening as the details illustrated in between walls of scrawled text detailed a life's work prolonged across two generations in the making, with a third well in the works, tracing feather light light fingers over intricately detailed diagrams and symbolic figures worked painstakingly into narrative of equation and the alchemic. Illuminations and graphs of the esoteric and the barely understood nature of Dust, and so much more... And then he found the photo, holding it up to the light and squinting.

"Weird looking kid. So just who the heck is ' _Eddy_ ' supposed to... _!?"_ His face lit up mischievously, eyes bouncing too and fro until a foot stomped to the floor with an almighty crash, sending a long crack of aged wood webbing to the foot of the bed, and rocking the building so hard, dust rained from what remained of the ceiling proper.

" _Put. That. Back._ "

It took nary another few heartbeats - my heartbeats at that - for the book... for the precious diary to slam shut and vanish back inside the bag along with the offending image. My little Faunus friend had gone pale and teary-eyed, mollified for the moment, and shivering just like Eddy whenever I'd... Damn it all.

"Look, the book's not gonna stab you, but... it's dangerous all the same. _Real_ dangerous," I explained whilst biting my lip, trying to use my gentlest voice for this, the sort I used for the more matronly or absent minded disguises in my line of work. Cheap, easy, and effective in settling the boy's nerves, or convincing him I wasn't about to up and eat him... which he very much still seemed to believe was a possibility. A lie, yet not one I was eager to dismiss if it kept him in line. "No, don't ask me why. You wouldn't get it. And no, it's not normie-proof."

"I-I wasn't..."

Oh gods, was he going to start crying? What was I...? Was this guilt? What did I have to feel guilty about!?... Oh godsdammit, I used to be better at this! I used to care... Images of another face to replace his, bright green eyes and the kindest smile one could possibly imagine. That same face grinning as it crushed and broke and ripped and tore...!?

 _'...Wait just a sec... His heart rate...'_

"Really? Fake tears?" I asked flatly after a quick listen, his quivering face marred with surprise and sudden consternation at being found out. "Heh... Nice try, Stray."

"Grr-dammit! Stop calling me that!" Aw, his face was reddening up even more. Almost a match for that fuzzy little head of his. _Almost..._

"Oh? Would you prefer ' _Runt_ ' then? Sorry, I'll keep that in mind."

"Blighted... Gods, do you treat all your partners like this!?" He crossed his arms, intelligently keeping them far away from his instrument as he did so, having learned from his last attempt. "Think I can see why the big guy doesn't want to wake u- _uwaagh_!?" He ducked back, narrowly avoiding the chunk of wood I'd kicked for his head. A tiny piece, really. Wouldn't have even put a dent in his...

Right, no Aura barrier... "

C-crazy broad! What's the matter with...!?"

"Finish that sentence. _Please_." He stiffened, jaw clapping shut as my booted heel tapped the wooden flooring lightly. Lightly for a Trapper, anyway, meaning I might as well be stomping. "Give me the excuse."

"You... Hey, you need me, remember?" He drew in a deep breath, waving an arm leisurely even if I could see the sweat beading on his forehead, hear the beating in his chest cavity as I stretched back with another staccato spray of popping joints... "Save the threats, Trapper."

"Never threats, just, _uuuh_... statements."

Couldn't have him getting comfortable on me. Not like that, and neither could I. I had to be in charge, someone he had to fear and respect...It was the only proper way to deal with his kind. Still, I had to give credit where credit was due.

"Hmph... Fine then. Instead of futzing with my stuff and doing something we both regret - well, _you'll_ definitely regret, anyway - how about you go outside and make yourself useful, hmm?"

It was desperate, but random enough to snap us both back into the status quo I'd established. Something inane and mindless without risk.

"I... I dunno, chop wood or something. Gonna rain tonight, and I don't exactly fancy freezing to death out here."

"Rain? You can tell...?" This time I used a bit of my Semblance, not even bothering to look as I directed an air of aggravated short temper I didn't even truly need to fake right into his soul. "F-fine, fine! Freaking taskmaster-wannabe-Trapper! I'll show...!"

" _I heard that!_ " I snapped, bringing hands together into a painful if satisfying clap. "Wood! _Now!_ Chop-chop! Or maybe I'll use that damn fiddle of yours, and...!"

That certainly got him running, zipping out the door with only a few more grumbling invective, and plenty of spitting sass. Yet sure enough, it was soon followed by rustling timber, and the heady chop of the rusted hatchet we'd managed to scrounge... Well, _he_ had. I was just sitting out here, getting babysat by a child. A damned Faunus of all things.

"By the gods, _kids!_ Of all the...!?"

Groaning I slumped back by my place at the window, readying myself for another suspension rep. Mind working desperately to come up with a strategy, a plan, _anything_ to avoid thinking about what may or may not happen.

The truly desperate nature of the little situation in which I found myself... In which I kept finding myself.

 _"Grr..._ Wake your ass _up,_ Joel! Just what the hell is up with...?"

* * *

 _ **-Joel Ambrose-**_

"...you little!... _Tysh ed!"_ I cursed angrily, tumbling through the darkness with my vision spinning. Akan lounged back in the air above me, gravity and realism be damned, juggling that blasted jewel in his palm. "Damn it! What's the point of all this!? Why, if you won't tell me anything!? A traitor...!?"

Rowan was betrayed? Why did that matter today? Why would it matter at all? What was the point of all this!?

No... No, calm down. This wasn't even my anger... And somehow, that made it all the worse.

"You're needed to see, Pup. You needn't understand all." I almost wanted to laugh in his face at the reply, give the body-snatching bastard a bit of his own medicine... "Some things aren't necessary, better left in the past. Kenneth? Now he understood..."

Okay, that's it. Time to draw this line here and now.

"I'm _not_ my grandfather. You're in _my_ head. The least you can do is understand that much!"

I shook out my head, feeling that I should've had a headache. Could those even happen here? Where even _was_ here? Was I still dreaming, or...?

"You rebelled, joined a revolt, and defied your masters. All because...?" I shook my head, thinking back to the Safehold I knew who practically worshiped this man. "...Because you wanted to _sleep_ with the Queen? You can't be that...! That's just...!?"

"Hmm? Phrased as such, it's not the most altruistic of reasons, I'll admit," he barked out a curt laugh, bringing his arms out to his side. "For hours we fought one another, a beauty wreathed in a storm. Who could resist that?"

Unbidden, I felt that giddy exhilaration, or at least a shadow of it.

For a moment, I imagined that I could almost see Rowan in scraped-together pieces of armor, with her _Albion_ gleaming like a bar of lightning in hand.

The Queen rode clouds, and threw crimson-tinged flashes from the tumultuous skies, Akan weaving and dancing in flickering jumps and bounds of Semblance-driven mobility across the length of an entire valley. The both of them were laughing like children despite themselves. A lean face, glowing blue eyes, a white mane touched with black and crimson dye done up in a messy bun on the verge of flying free in the wind...

And then there they both stood together, injured but still upright. Screams and bestial roars welled up on all sides as a battle waged all around them.

A _real_ battle, and not a skirmish against a pack of Grimm, or even the hefty firefights I'd become accustomed to while fighting the White Fang. This... This was a _real_ battle, with all of the accompanying noise, confusion, and horrors associated with such a word.

Their hulking foe loomed in all his terrible glory, striding through the floating clumps of ashen dust cast up by so many footfalls.

A giant of bulging, misshapen flesh that had once been human, but now seemed more an amalgamation of Grimmskin and riveted spiked armor plates. The creature within was lit by an inner furnace of flickering black energy that made me shiver just to behold. The sight of it reared back with a massive clawed hand of broiling Grimm-stuff, sweeping aside a group of desperate Safeholders running to meet it, broken bodies and spears flying mangled through the air one after the other.

Its smell was like rotting meat and corruption, its laugh a growl git for an Ursa or Beowolf... One of Her Chosen, a champion of the Dark Goddess, and these meager souls barred its path. And not just Akan and Rowan, either...

Kara and her bow leapt from furry shoulder to armored carapace, carried on the winds, firing arrow after metallic arrow into the horde of darkness seeking to swallow them whole with her multicolored hair flapping in the breeze in a whipping torrent behind her. Even the projectiles fired carried the gale with them, piercing entire lines of monstrous creatures by dint of sheer violent velocity.

Stahl swung his broad hammer, breaking bone and tearing shadowed skin with every swing. The fires from the devastation surrounding the battlefield pumped through his veins to heal what meager injuries were inflicted, and bolster his prodigious strength and Aura all the more. Dark muscle built in a forge turned to battering the front lines as a vanguard, aiding his fellows, and fighting like a thing possessed.

Another slimmer man in tattered, diaphanous white robes of distinctly Mistrali make, and huge spectacles waved a clockwork wand like a conductor behind him, glyphs and sigils coalescing into dome-like shields that kept the Soulless at bay from the injured...

' _Albedo'._

The name fluttered through my recollections as... as the foreigner who birthed Mooring... and by his side another soul sprinting nigh on all fours, hunched in a ragged dark cloak staring through matted black curls that covered his eyes. Tethers of spiked chain, and leather threaded with gleaming Dust crystals wrapped tight about his wrists, flickering as he whipped them about nigh-silently to claim heads, and smash howling skulls...

' _Mammon'..._

Gods, these were Rowan's champions I was seeing in the flesh. Unrefined, but powerful nevertheless...

"Better days," Akan mused in answer to the memory. "A splendid partnership, all of us together. Unbeatable on the field, at least in our prime."

Strange. I was witnessing things Grandfather Kenneth had only ever relayed in stories. Tales he'd told with such vigor and pomp. Because he'd seen them firsthand, I supposed with a pang of realization...

"But you... All of Safehold was once allied with the Dark Goddess?"

Safehold, defenders of the Frontier. Those that held Rowan in the highest esteem. Higher than even her descendants in Bastion. The true citizens of the Frontier. But the thoughts in my head, the shade before me as well as so many others...

"By her blood, you... You were all...?"

"Her dogs? Yes. We were once, Pup. Once." Akan fell before me, landing lightly on his feet, and somehow towering over me despite sharing the same appearance. "Not the life of petty laborers or kneeling slave stock for the scattered tribes and clans of my birth, no. We were a strong people, if savage in our ways. Something She... _Salem,_ cultivated."

Truly gone was the jolliness, his voice tight. That's when I realized he didn't want to speak of this. He felt he _had_ to.

But that name... _Salem..._ I'd never heard it spoken before, but... By her blood, my gorge rose, as if by some instinctive, ancestral reflex.

"Salem shaped us in ways beyond the wretches she stood as Mistress over. We endured and survived because we fought. The land, the Soulless beasts, ourselves... It didn't matter."

That certainly sounded like the Safehold I knew. A bunch of stubborn warriors refusing the aid of any technology aside from those dedicated to Grimm Slaying or fulfilling their ancient role as protectors... even if the rest of the Frontier shunned them for it.

The 'Savages.' The one giving us all a bad name to the Kingdoms at large...

"And feral fools we were. We were proud of that fact. Fierce in our convictions. And curse the blighted abomination for all that she is, but the Goddess knows the value of such qualities and how to make proper use of them, if given proper incentive."

The space around us took on substance once more, broiling like the storm in the sky I'd seen overlooking the plains. Flicker flashes of fur-clad barbarians bowing to a woman of pale beauty... _Literally._ Her skin was an inhuman marble white threaded with veins of black deeper than the void. And her eyes... Those burning pools of malice... The things they offered. The things _SHE_ offered...

"Such gifts were difficult things to refuse. Knowledge of the power present within one's own soul, and how to wield it like her champions. Old medicines that could cure our ills, and cultivate the Hunds that plagued us from the wilds. Strange means of forging weapons and arms beyond anything our primitive mindsets could fathom. She was a Goddess to some; a thing to be worshiped. And it was well earned."

He shuddered, clapping a fist to his chest with enough force I was surprised I didn't hear ribs crack under the blow. I just fell back, surprised to find something akin to a bench to catch me. This whole mental landscape shifting, mutable...

"You fought for Her. _Killed_ for Her..."

The Dark Goddess. The bogeyman of my culture; _our_ culture. The Mistress of the Grimm; the Enslaver. A thing to be feared and reviled. The Greatest Enemy of Mankind...

...And he'd compared her 'Barons' to Cinder.

 _'What did that mean?'_ I shuddered just to wonder...

"They left you alone, or with the scraps from Her table. Is that it?"

"You must understand, Pup. She had whole legions of monsters of every shape and kin. Yet they were weak to the power of the soul, to Aura. They could be fooled and denied like the beasts they resemble. And her Chosen were often little better, as you just saw," he explained in reference to the hulking monster I'd seen, pacing as if antsy, bouncing on the balls of his feet... _my_ feet.

This mirror-act was growing tiresome.

"That was where our role stemmed from. Who better to hunt Man than Nan itself?"

"And Rowan accepted you?" Hard to believe that the Maiden I'd seen rise to power would tolerate such things. Then I thought about it logically... "...Of course. Mercenaries, right? You all got something out of it?"

"The chance to redeem ourselves. To be _free._ We might not have moved stones or built monuments, but we were still slaves of a different sort. Rowan helped us see that, after some bone-headed missteps on our part." He chortled, a short-lived joy there one moment, only to be swallowed up again. "Not all the clans followed me to Rowan's banner. Many still fell, often at my feet. She needed warriors, and we provided. The give and the take... No, that's wrong. Kenneth mentioned it so long ago..."

Somehow, I got the impression he wasn't used to feeling this way, or at least he didn't care for more serious topics.

"According to him, your... grandfather, my descendants still bear the weight of this old treachery. That we were among those that served our greatest enemy." Akan looked to me, evidently expecting me to fill him in, or perhaps provide some thoughts or insights verbal or otherwise. "It hounds them even still, reflected in their actions and their ways. What is it they call it? Their _Crysa?_ Their 'Shame?'"

He all but spat the word, one I vaguely remembered from my time among the Tribes as a boy. Remembered, but never quite understood.

"They shun the comforts civilization and technology would provide, and threw themselves at the Soulless hordes in droves. All of it in some fool attempt to atone for what _we_ did. Even to the point of binding themselves so tightly to the memory of Rowan's Throne that the very thought of betraying it is lunacy, and in the doing, see themselves into a fool war none but the enemy they _should_ be working against will win."

"You think the Dark Goddess still matters? That she's still...?" I thought back to Vale, to the destruction and the loss, and the hands behind it. Akan nodded, seeing the same, and accepting my conclusion. "...This war... The Frontier, and the Kingdoms. All it's doing is helping her."

"More than likely, and yet my descendants go along gladly." He tapped his head, giving it a firm shake, seemingly distracted... "Fools, the lot of them. Pissing on my legacy."

"That's... harsh. Harsh and cruel."

"And well deserved, make no mistake."

He sounded so sure of himself then, but I couldn't bring myself to agree. Ancestor or not, I was related to those people, too. They had their share of foibles and issues, yes. Did I agree with them completely? No. But they were... _family,_ after a fashion.

"They're my blood, too. Remember that, Pup?"

" _Rrgh_... Stop that!" I snapped angrily, feeling a rush of sudden fury that might have been his, only making things more difficult. "Get... Get out of my head!... Well, I'm supposing you _can't,_ but... _Gah,_ you know what I mean, Ghost! Let me up!"

"Tch... I will do this, but there is one more thing I must share. That _we_ must share, Scion of Ambrose. Something important."

His arm moved, my own moving to counter, only to find the Heart's crackling surface clapping against my palm. The smug bastard had tossed the precious stone like a piece of...!

I coughed and doubled over, covering my mouth, eyes stinging from the scent of smoke and ash...

"You must understand the danger of that which your grandfather gave you. The _true_ danger."

"What!? Hey, just what's that supposed to _meaaaaaaaaa- **ah!**_ "

And then the mirror copy had vanished, the floor spiraling out from underneath me as I fell choking into a sea of flames and tar black smoke...

* * *

-END

* * *

 _ **A/N: Hey all, glad to be posting again. Moving things forward a bit, Joel figuring out some details of the past while Ben sets off to the Frontier with a bit of unexpected help.**_

 _ **Been meaning to bring back Penny, or some version of her, since the start with that first chapter. Based the design of Gen:Lock's Caliban, bit of a patched together Drone Jacob shoved an AI into. Hoping to have some fun with that.**_

 _ **Till next time, and as always feel free to leave a review. Always looking to see how I can improve. - Mojo**_

* * *

 _ **(Next Chapter: Awkward surprises...)**_


	34. Chapter 34

**_Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One._**

* * *

A PUZZLE & A STOWAWAY

* * *

 _ **-Reika Murasaki-**_

"...suspected foul play along one of your little supply channels, Mister Quinn? A mutiny, you said, yes?"

I couldn't help a small titter of silent laughter at the veins bulging along the hawk-nosed privateer's narrow jawline beneath the slicked back green hair at the casual ease laden in Harper Majorelle's lilting tones. I was rarely thankful for the opportunity afforded by my little quirk, though given the strange slips, I still had to be a bit careful. Especially given the seething heat I could feel digging into the Aura of the enemy leader's... Wait a sec...!?

 _'No, all of them are enemies! There's no friendly forces here! i'm a prisoner; a glorified slave...!'_

Pino noticed, his Aura spiking in concern gracefully... or at least I thought it was behind that battered mask of his. Shown only in the veiled red eyes fixing me with a sharp glare of warning, and a twitch of the hand, probably wanting to go for my shoulder.

 _'Not here! Definitely not!..."_

He'd been like that, worried, since we'd first stumbled back to the ship after my unexpected reunion with a family I'd thought long lost to me. Ma's doting was fresh on my mind, as were the details she'd shared regarding the gang's hardships after Bill 'Hangman' Carson had surrendered himself... something that they swore up and down that Ben and I hadn't been responsible for.

It hadn't been our fault. They didn't blame us...

 _'...Ben... Goodness, I couldn't even mention him. A. Atlesian Specialist...'_

A kind lie, one made no less harsh by descriptions of those long days spent evading Atlas' ever more determined watchdogs. Evading informants, Huntsmen, Grimm, and who knew what else. They retreated to the edges of the known world, beyond the Kingdoms and the Wastes in a bid to survive where none would think to look...

Speaking of which, a blink reminded me of where we stood, gathered in a wide circular chamber nestled amidst the rabble and hustle of Mooring's center. A meeting place swathed in all the pageantry Mooring exuded, _and_ the danger.

Luxurious tapestries and furnishings warred with the fact that the space had obviously once been the beached remains of several collided vessels haphazardly bolted and sawed together into something vaguely appealing.

Well, so long as no one tried to move about too much and upset the thin delicate boards along the outermost edges where Pino and I found ourselves after having been dragged by the _Prism's_ Boatswain, staring along with at least a hundred other souls at the gathering taking place towards the center.

Situated beneath a danging chandelier cobbled together on fine chains and what looked to be the clinking amalgamation of generations of stolen finery - necklaces, candelabras, and what seemed oddly enough to be a few Huntsman-Class shifting weapons - was a table of carved driftwood and ossified shells. An ancient piece still glowing in my Semblance-driven senses, with the weight of years and handling, though it was nothing to the beings seated or standing around it.

More than a dozen figures were bedecked in enough finery and silks between them to bankroll half the Badlands, and that didn't even begin to describe the control some of these men and women carried. The 'Merchant Princes of Mooring,' each in their own right responsible for one of Mooring's great districts. Each in control of their own criminal enterprise allowing, the Frontier City and its people to thrive.

I was only familiar with two sitting across from one another, reluctantly as those relationships might be. Harper was seated in enough lace and silk to smother a smaller soul, the hulking mass of Mr. Florid standing at his side unarmed, and no less intimidating for it. Meanwhile, irate Tobias Quinn sat bedecked in his mockery of Atlesian Military regalia, half hunched over in a patchwork throne glaring at the captain. _My_ captain, I supposed.

 _'...Gods, look at me...'_

"Yes, Harper. A mutiny... perhaps. Must I spell it out for you again?" Quinn said dangerously in a tone that went unheeded by his smirking counterpart, or simply disregarded. "And for another, you _will_ use my title in this place and among this esteemed company, fop! I earned it, and you'll damn well use it!" He slammed a fist down, rattling the fluted glasses of wine dangerously, though none but Harper himself dared reach for them, let alone drink deep as he did.

" _Ah!_ Why, of course! I apologize! My mistake, _Captain_ Quinn. Or do you actually prefer 'Admiral?' Such a gaudy rank." A shaped eyebrow rose, lip quirking at the fine vintage. "I only inquire as to how such trouble among _your_ associates is any of _my_ concern? Airships were always more your prerogative than mine." A casual finger pointed towards the reddening Captain as the speaker eased himself further back into his own throne. "Though, I'll admit to some mild curiosity on the subject. _Only_ mild."

"Well, perhaps you should take more due notice of proceedings, _Captain_ Harper." Strange, how the exact same inflection in another's mouth could seem so much less relevant. I'd seen and sat plenty of meetings in my time with Bill's gang as his ward, and had seen enough of them go bad too. This interaction had all the hallmarks. Especially if Harper kept on baiting him. "For it will be the _Colorless Prism_ that will be acting as this esteemed council's eyes...!"

"Truly? It doesn't quite so ' _esteemed_ ' the more the word's repeated." Majorelle waved a hand to the scattered laughter of some in the crowd and at the table, quickly smothered by the look on Quinn's face. "Tends to lose the gravitas."

"Nevertheless, it will be you and yours that will investigate the truth behind what happened to the supply shipping vessel _Queen Blue,_ en-route from collection in Mistrali waters. Whether it was Grimm, mishandling, or blood be spared... a mutiny, you will determine the cause, and report back to...!?"

He halted, seemingly nonplussed in disbelief or incredulity at the manner in which the _Prism's_ Captain so openly whispered in his First Mate's ear, the pair sharing a private word, though Florid was much more circumspect about the whole thing.

Many of the other Princes noticed the display, some smiling in amusement, others with the same sort of simmering indignity as their... admiral? Which in itself made little sense to me. Would that mean Quinn was above them? He certainly acted like it, and many of those present seemed to be keyed into his Aura's tempo, their emotions beating in time.

A pulsing rhythm along the tendrils of some bright web only I could see, let alone discern.

 _'...But I thought Mooring was all about equality, at least on that level? No one in charge. That's what Shean said when we were taken...'_

Even so, I didn't need my Semblance to know the tension in the room had ratcheted up severely. Idle hands drifted for guns or swords belted at waists, eyes flitting all about, waiting and ready for whatever might come. Pino's hand was questing again, and this time I was half tempted to let him if it would steady his trembling nerves. Then I noticed the Horo-Sha's glove reaching for the bag slung over his shoulder, towards the medicines and tinctures.

 _'Prepped and ready. He's learning...'_

"...will go! And you will show this Council the respect it...!" Quinn was shouting now. When had that happened?

I shook my head, trying to refocus. By the gods, my focus had been drifting more and more lately, my Semblance especially. The sea of lights surrounding me, the emotions they carried... It was too much. Then there were those distant beacons in the faraway dark almost indistinct with distance. Those familiar lights I couldn't help but recognize despite the changes assailing them all.

A warmth I'd grown up alongside, harrowed by doubts, fears, regrets and responsibilities he didn't want... The closest yet the furthest, it seemed...

A flurry I'd quarreled with, but had been twisted into something almost unrecognizable and malicious... Brutality and blind confusion lashing out...

A tempest I'd followed, smothered by... by something I couldn't quite describe. It was pulsing as strong as ever, but different... like some foreign body was trying to parse it apart from the inside, or amend things to better suit its needs...

"And on whose authority? To force _my_ crew - _my_ ship - to do anything of the sort?" Harper's voice had changed pitch, no longer lilting and carefree but harsh and jagged. "Not yours, certainly, or mayhaps you've forgotten that the power an Admiral of Mooring wields is only ever what is offered publicly? What the Princes of Mooring _deign_ to grant you. To serve our needs as a 'face' for the rest of the ordered world." Sea blue eyes drifted about the room to those Princes in turn, some meeting the stare with those of their own, even more finding more entertainment in the depths of their glasses. "...Do share! Have you sorry lot actually granted such clout in the time I've been abroad, or has that always been the case?"

The Aura about the room was almost palpable, the emotional presence heavy... _suffocating._ Though, of course, with Harper, who knew? His booted heel tapped upon the floor with more weight than one might've expected for so slight a figure, cracks bleeding in spiderweb patterns across the wood.

More glances, more whispers, the edge of conflict tinging the air with a sour metal tang...

"Because if so, as the former incumbent of that damnable title, I think I might be a might bit put out none thought to mention such sooner. Am I?... Oh! I think I am! I could've had _such fun_."

Harper eased forward, a hand slamming palm down on the table's surface with more than enough weight behind it to rattle the whole of the structure. The chandelier swayed dangerously, some of its looser elements detaching entirely to clatter across the assembly. Quinn swore under his breath as several pinged off a flagging green Aura, leaping to his feet as a pair of previously benign droids armed themselves.

All around the chamber, emotions flared, the weakest among them guttering sparks compared to the blaze of roiling sentiment roaring in the center between two souls with Aura keened to an expert's edge. One a former Huntsman - a Specialist of Atlas, no less - who betrayed Kingdom and calling to descend to the depths of piracy, the other a mystery despite my best efforts.

A man who'd simply appeared one day from beyond Mooring's shores, and had shaken the Frontier City to its core in the years since with his seizure of the _Prism,_ a ship renowned without equal.

These two could have challenged any I had met, at least in this regard. Still, they weren't why I was clutching my head as a sudden, nagging irritant wormed its way into my perceptions. A soul quite unlike anything I'd witnessed...

But no... No, that wasn't quite true now...

"Amusing. I'll ask again. On whose authority do you try to send me like some deckhand to clean up your messes?"

" _Mine,_ Captain. _That_ would be mine."

As one, every eye within the cavernous space, from those Nobles in their seats, to the wretches peeking through from the rafters above, seemed drawn by the controlled presence of the words spoken. Echoing from the direction of the mismatched stairways marking the path to a looming set of doors that might once have served as the hulls of mighty ships, but now stood as ingress.

I'd stopped breathing well before that, my lungs tight in my chest, heart thundering. A trio of figures descended into the meeting chamber, boots ringing clear across the wood. A pair surrounded the third in clear subservience, though I'd hardly have believed it from their bearing if I hadn't already discerned their individual Aura, realizing the pecking order by instinct.

The most obvious pair flanked their lead on either side, moving ahead in clear enough formation. The most outlandish between them was to the right, sporting a thick shapeless coat of dark fabrics, and flapping layers that almost seemed to consume the man to the point not a sliver of skin showed beneath, what face he might've born hidden behind a beaked mask and cold uncaring lenses. His Aura was sickly and pale, hanging like a shroud about his person that sent a thrill of bile tingling at my throat.

His counterpart was far more recognizable, for a far less reassuring reason...

A thin, reedy-featured woman was equipped in a formfitting body glove of varied shades of grays and blacks, save but for the mark emblazoned proudly upon her chest piece. The same painted across an all too familiar style of mask concealing all identity, but a shock of brindle hues shaved close to the sides of her head, the exception being a few thin braids draped over one shoulder.

A red hand print... The mark of affiliation the mark of a Trapper, which this soul clearly was, of that there was no doubt.

A Trapper like Joel. Youthful, vibrant. Her soul burned in a manner similar to all those few souls I'd met possessed. Virgil Jett, Elizabeth Briar...

Supreme confidence, indelible determination, undercut by a seething bitterness and need that fueled the former. This one's head twitched from side to side in response to stimuli, much as I recalled my Team Leader having done. Those movements were deliberate, as though afraid of breaking the world around them suddenly. They were no doubt scanning the room with that mode of preternatural senses they all possessed.

My heart actually skipped a beat as her attentions drifted towards me for a fraction of a second, paused to assess, then dismissed with a casual air of potent threat.

Not that they mattered. Not one bit. Not when compared to the soul standing at their center with the casual, sheepish air of one who knew fully well they were interrupting, accompanied by the self-assurance to clearly know he could get away with it. I'd seen it adopted plenty of times before by both Bill and Benjamin Carson during my tenure with them... And they were certainly _not_ this man.

They were dressed much similarly, as the plain-looking man was in a dark overcoat, if more ornamented than his companion, yet with none of the gaudiness that plagued the princes. Silvered pauldrons and shaped vambraces adorned broad shoulders and steady, wrists while a sash striped with a green and violet fluttered from his belt, where clinking silver-threaded pouches and finery were hung.

Neither towering nor diminutive - neither overly imposing nor sickeningly genial - he simply walked into the assemblies midst, but two things stood out more clearly...

His face. I _knew_ that face, or parts of it, at least. Not quite so lean, and certainly older, with experience of years carved into the skin, quite literally. His right was eye covered with a thick, violet band strapped about his face, the barest edges of inflamed skin peeking out, though not quite hidden by chocolate brown hair speckled liberally with grey.

Even so, enough features still showed through quite clearly. Traits I'd seen reflected in a friend I'd come to respect and trust with my life. Smiling, snarling, laughing, frowning... The angle of the jaw, the shape of the eyes and nose...

 _'...By the gods, he looks like...!'_

" _Master Violette!?_ My... M-my Lord Cahalrym!" With a clamor of screeching wood and abused metal, every Prince, Harper included, rose to their feet in welcome. Tobias' face paled, eyes wide, and clearly thrown off guard. "We... I-I didn't expect...? Y-your orders are being relayed as we...!" His words spilled forth as more startled gasps and stammers at this point, that earlier anger replaced with a cold, gut-deep unease that perforated his Aura like bullet holes.

Something that might've been a chuckle spilled from behind the Trapper's mask, though it was well and truly short-lived, her head still on a swivel, though none could mistake the way she'd gone silent at a twitch of the brow from her superior... Her Master. The Cahalrym... Lucas Violette.

 _'...Violette. Which means that this is... This is Joel's...!'_

Then how could his Aura be so...?

"Indeed. I can see that well enough, Tobias." The man raised a gloved hand, a silent urging for all at the table to return to their seats. And remarkably enough, all did so, even their adjutants moving back a pace as if to distance themselves from the objects of this figure's attentions. "Thank you, but I realize such requests are better done in person than through the mouth of another. Even one with such authority."

His eyes fell upon the only pair not to sit themselves back down, Harper and Florid standing if not defiantly then at least against expectation. Still, the easy smirk had vanished, and I could make out the veins pulsing in Florid's meaty neck. The First Mate was always on guard in the presence of danger... _Extreme_ danger.

"Lord Cahalrym." The _Prism's_ Captain affected a respectful bow, refusing to break eye contact with the newcomer's lone remaining orb. Brilliant sea blue engaged with cool violet, "Well, then... It seems no one was expecting your arrival. I, myself, would've thought matters of ongoing conquest might have proven quite..."

"Distracting? Indeed. Which is why I count myself forever grateful for the competencies of those aiding our endeavor, making such returns possible."

Lucas moved closer, some within the crowd parting like the tide as he passed, while others seemed drawn in despite the guards who eyed them like the crooked necked birds that sometimes roosted about the city, swooping down to snatch surfacing fish or other scraps.

More than one of these souls offered their own respects and greetings, each receiving one in kind, to my own surprise. Hands and wrists grasped and shook with fraternal gusto, gazes engaged and held with respect and rapt attention. Easy jokes shared that might've made even the hardiest sailors about Mooring's fleet blush...

Fraternity. That's what I saw despite the fear and nerves.

I'd seen more than a few supposed Raiders and Bandit Kings in those insane distant years under Bill Carson's colors. Some that used the power they held as a blade or bludgeon to threaten or cajole their people's respect. Others as a shield to hide behind, distancing themselves for fear of retaliation, or of being seen at a vulnerable instance.

For Lucas, it was an invitation, sincerity welcoming you into his confidence. Even I had to suppress a thrill of something in my breast as he passed, offering Pino's curious appearance a salute of open greeting so similar to that of the Horo-Sha customs I recalled, that the boy hesitantly returned with a squeak of appreciation that, against my better judgement I found I was envious of.

I wanted to be worth his attention, to earn the same... And that _terrified_ me. The ease with which his Aura's profile had dug its hooks into my senses. A subtle pressure of his soul on mine, beckoning me to stand by his side. To want... To simply _want._

"As well as those Shrikes of yours, Tobias," the man amended with a grin that was so much like the one Joel Ambrose bore that it physically ached, slipping past Harper to rest palms upon the table, and nod at the Captain in question. "Such ambitious- no... _ingenious_ machines, truly. Much like the mind that birthed them, but your people have performed wonders, regardless, in their production. Hours ago, I walked Anima's core valleys, and now only a mere hours later..." He brought a hand about the space admiringly, validating both it and those that lived there... Complimenting.

Bill and Ben had done as such plenty of times. Clever... And these vipers snapped it up gladly.

"It... It is an honor to serve the Cahalrym's cause," Quinn said with a peremptory salute that started Atlesian, and morphed into something vaguely involving a palm to a sweating forehead. "Our people may not be the Warriors, but...!"

"All do their part, Tobias. From the smallest scallion in Mooring, to the broadest shoulders in Bastion. Each has a purpose, as was set by our forebears, adopted or otherwise." Violette acknowledged what the salute had been with geniality, others who'd been eyeing their admiral's failing letting their whispering fall silent. "There is no shame in being what you are, or judgement in what you are not. _Fa tu yc fa lyh._.. We do as we can, and bear what comes."

"So then this errand you send me on, my Lord," Harper spoke up from the side, draping his svelte frame over the armrest of his own throne with his booted heel clicking against the side with a rhythmic beat.

A beat I couldn't help but notice the Trapper in the room following, a hand reaching up to grasp her mask. The edifice came away to reveal a sallow face pockmarked by youth, and riven with dark circles under her eyes that swept languidly across the room. She was no older than Joel or Ben, I'd wager, but tired. A long scar trailed along underneath her jaw to near a hair's breadth from her jugular. A cut far too clean to have come from anything but a blade, and tainted by lingering negativity.

An old wound. A nasty one. Earned at a time when she'd been terrified; suffering...

 _'How do I know this...?'_

Was my Semblance evolving yet again?... By the gods, I hoped not. The headaches were already bad enough.

"...find it hard to believe that you would waste the time of one of those few true _Leviathan_ vessels that our people - that _Mooring_ \- have remaining to us, and the crew required to wield it in the pursuit of an errand. One that falls outside of my care or purview, I might add, and should by all rights be delegated to one of your admiral's toadies."

"Forgive me, Captain Harper. It seems I've slighted you for little reason. I recognize my error, and will strive to correct it."

"That you strive is appreciated, but I would at least have it explained."

By the gods, the intake of breath around the room from both onlooker and Prince was actually palpable. The reaction of the Leader of the Frontier's world far less so, both physically and in the reflection of his Aura. Even with my eyes closed to strengthen the impression, it was...murky. Everything made indistinct by...by...

 _'...What... **is** that?...' _My brow furrowed with the effort of parsing apart the varied sensations of nearby souls - Harper's flitting whirlwind, Quinn's seething hearth, Pino's warming shine- and focused on the Cahalrym.

A man who had survived so much, had _done_ so much to my teammates and I, let alone the rest of the civilized world... And whose soul seemed so very... _wrong._ Something beneath the surface... Not unlike...?

"...revealing similar shows of dissent in the face of our conquest, which cannot be allowed to stand unchallenged. Something I feel requires a captain of significant presence..."

My focus was slipping, words fumbling one over the other as my senses clashed. The conversation faded in and out of focus like some decaying photograph. Violette... What was he saying?

"...so that out needs are met in the field, this chain of supply is paramount. The _Shrikes_ are a miracle, but alone cannot be expected..."

"Hey, are you feeling well?" Targeted worry welling up from the side, Pino's concern was hidden tactfully behind the mask, as always. His voice was low... though not so low I couldn't imagine the Trapper couldn't hear every word. "You look... Reika, you're looking rather pale..."

" _...!_ " Shaking my head slowly with a throaty whine that shocked us both to attention, I straightened, blinking away the lingering Semblance driven emotions. Most of them were fixed and rather pointed on the argument... or was it a heated discussion? I'd always had trouble with the differences. The _Prism's_ Captain had always been a mystery, one I often found myself filling in with details pertaining to rank in the Badlands.

A 'Boss', or 'Captain,' in this case, was supposed to be someone with a plan. Convictions that would inspire those beneath him to act on his behalf, even if that didn't mean he was always the strongest. Jaune Arc certainly hadn't been, and his Team would have followed him anywhere. Just like we would've followed Joel, as the Frontier clearly followed Violette... But Harper did have his magnetism.

 _'...What am I thinking!?'_ I chided myself fiercely with a shake of the head, staring down the beak-masked Trapper with appropriate ire, until he backed off with a bemused shrug. _'These are enemies, people I should be watching for weaknesses! Every scrap of information I can glean could help the Kingdoms. Help Ben and Joel...!'_

"...is a war, my Lord Cahalrym, plain and simple. People are dying. _Our_ people. Let's at least be plain on that front. We've challenged the rest of the world in full advantage of their own paranoia. A laudable feat, to be sure," he countered with a wave of the hand, the first inklings of a frown creasing those familiar features the Cahalrym bore. "And I've made abundantly clear my own thoughts on such...!"

"Which have been noted. And you yourself have been given every chance to depart with dignity and honor intact, Harper," Quinn spat with leering malice, unable to keep his stare from the Cahalrym's sash as much as he addressed Harper, unable to meet that single well of violet directly. "You had a choice when we deposed you...!?"

Harper scoffed, turning up a powdered nose with such aplomb that the ringlets of today's wig bounced indignantly in protest. "A choice to what? Abandon the vessel I bled and strove to earn in the face of Frontier purists who only saw an opportunistic foreigner? Depart leaving the wealth _I_ took with my own hands and acumen? I think _not,_ sir!"

"And I'm not asking you to leave, Harper, nor would I demand you serve in a conflict that holds no weight for you," Lucas cut in swiftly, lest his toady interrupt with more hasty threats. "This matter of mutiny, true or false, however, is a concern. One I would see curbed. And if one of your reputation was seen ending such a dispute..." He trailed off, leaving Majorelle to work out the implications for himself.

Serve in this, be a poster boy for this 'Cause,' and the matter ends... Harper knew this well, yet like any proper businessman, he knew when he could get more out of a deal.

"...Quinn's lane. I want exclusive access for my ships and the profits along its length... _Half,_ at the least. And of course, the offending craft will be mine as well, I take it? If no Grimm have dragged it to the depths by the time we arrive, that is," the captain haggled with a broadening smirk and a waggling finger in time with his First Mate's discomforted grunts. "It would only make sense, what with the admiral here so _clearly_ overworked. Anything I can do to ease the burden."

"Why you conniving...!" Mooring's Admiral thundered to his feet, sour crimson spilling from upended glasses in the wake of his motions to stain the tabletop. All of it halted at a glance from a nodding Lucas himself.

"More than fair, I would think," the man said heartily, silently daring his counterpart to countermand him in that moment. A move Quinn could likely challenge, but one I sincerely doubted he could get away with unscathed. "Now, then, with that settled, there are still matters that remain to be discussed. Steps that will no doubt influence our necessary conflict, as well as the future of the Frontier Cities as a whole, which may see us victorious in the days to come. For your ears alone, and those of your lieutenants."

I perked up so quick at the excitement lurking in the older man's voice, that even Pino, with his attention caught somewhere between rapt attention and awkward reorganization of his medicine bag, noted the shift, and what it likely entailed. " _Careful._ Don't make trouble."

The Trappers. _Of course_ he meant the Trappers... Wonderful. Now they probably had an eye on me, what with those ears of theirs.

Speaking of which...

"For our ears alone?" Harper spoke up, taking the initiative from a still spluttering Quinn, and maintaining it with only a hint of mocking superiority. "Perhaps, then, we might prefer a change of scenery? I could have a sitting room prepared at my finest hostel in a matter of..." He hesitated for the first time, visibly uncertain, the Cahalrym shaking his head in polite denial. "M-my Lord."

" _Hu, hu cilr haat..._ Ah, I beg your pardon. Such a delay is rather unnecessary, friends. Bastion's needs require expediency, but I'd still prefer to make clear my intent. This venue will more than suffice, seeing as you're all quite available." Violette's head turned to regard the Trapper, offering a curt nod of assent. "Kapila, if you would, please."

"Aye, Commander. A moment." The Trapper returned the gesture somewhat awkwardly, closing steely eyes with a tight grimace as the hairs on the back of my neck began to tingle.

A few moments more of near awkward stillness, unbidden whispers proliferating about until the Cahalrym's bodyguard sprang into motion. Her hands coming together with startling force and speed, only there wasn't seemingly any sound behind it... or in fact any sound to be found anywhere within the radius of the table despite Violette's mouth moving in time with many of the Prince's sudden equally silent outbursts.

An entire conversation rendered innocuously mute, my _Sense_ immediately detecting the heavy blanketing force extruding from this 'Kapila' to cover the length of the table in a dome of shimmering evanescence. A phenomenon that clearly went unseen to the rest of the crowd, who were caught between the desire to leap to their Princes in the face of this strange happening, and fear of the trio standing sentinel about the circumference at a respectful distance.

 **"A warning, perhaps, would've been nice, don't you think?"** the beak-masked man vocalized in a cold rasp that spoke of age and disdain in equal measure. Made all the worse through his mask's distortion into that Beowolf-esque growl that seemed to act as stable to the Red Hand's ranks. **"You're scaring the chaff."**

"You heard the order. I acted. Wow factor," Kapila bit back angrily, a flicker of gritted teeth the only indication she felt any strain at all from this rather impressive display of a Semblance. "Now stow it, Plaga. I need to concentrate."

 **"So rude. No respect for your predecessors,"** the clear senior growled, a continuing diatribe streaming forth under his breath that only I, and likely the Trapper, if the vein pulsing at his temple was any indication, could hear. Insults; barbs... Mentions of someone named 'Ao,' and curses against a 'Fidelis...'

So much tension between two allies. Fascinating... but not enough to waylay the disappointment at this screen and the denial of detail. Ben had always been better at reading lips, my only recourse the vague emotional flares that filtered through to my own awareness. Shock... Fear... Disbelief... Avarice... All things I could've made out from their faces alone.

Harper's was the most intriguing, depicting a fair bit of all of the above, coupled with a shuddering unease I'd not come to associate with the man. A moment of vulnerability he'd shown, then immediately rescinded.

This was all a show, I realized. A display of power, and a none too subtle one, at that, on the part of Violette, the Trappers, the newcomers as a whole. It was not how things were traditionally done in Mooring, though granted, that was likely the point.

Violette was proposing something amidst that gaggle of a captive audience. Something enormous, by the expressions I saw, and the grand if subtle motions of the speaker himself as he laid out his expectations. Ones met with mixed reactions of wary approval, and cautious probing.

Long minutes passed, turning close to an hour spent leaning against rotting benches and gathering in terse groups discussing all manner of matters. Wines and refreshments weere steadily filtered throughout the room in the hands of sweating _Bnela_ dressed up like dolls in cheap jewelry and gaudy uniforms, all of whom glared at Pino and I with ill-disguised contempt as members of Harper's crew engaged us, or more engaged my Horo-Sha companion.

Men and women from the Kingdoms, no doubt, taken as we were, looking at us as if we were no better than the actual pirates themselves that kept them prisoner. And in truth, I couldn't say I blamed them. I wasn't sure if we were, or if I was more like them. Pino had already made it clear he intended to go native. But as for me...

"...!"

I was the first to notice the shroud receding, my Semblance giving forewarning as opposed to those around me too caught up in their own conversations to immediately notice the abrupt return of noise spilling from the center of the room.

Grinding squeals of thrones both steel, wood, and what have you were pushed back. Princes clambered to their feet with a variety of salutes put through the motions as the Cahalrym departed with a final shake wrist to wrist from drawn-looking Quinn, Harper conspicuously still in his seat, staring up at the swaying chandelier.

It was spur of the moment impulse that had me moving closer, moving on an intercept course through the crowd towards the Cahalrym, the Commander of the Red Hand. Bones creaked as fingers curled into a tight, shaking fist, memories playing on repeat through my skull depicting my captivity and mistreatment at Virgil's hands. Of hours spent certain that Ben and Joel had been killed in some overarching plan of opportunity.

This man had purportedly started a war with the Kingdoms when they were at their most vulnerable. When Grimm the world over were swarming worse than ever, and more villages fell by the day bereft of strong leadership or Huntsmen to protect them. And here he was, unarmed, while I had my fists and my strength... Two Trappers wouldn't be able to stop me. Not before I...!?

I'd broken through the press of sweating, tattooed bodies, finding myself mere feet from the one-eyed fiend himself, Joel's features on his face nagging at me incessantly, until... until he saw me. His eye found mine, and I found myself hesitating, wondering if against all odds he might have recognized me as his nephew's teammate. An impossibility, I'd wager, as no picture existed in the Kingdoms of me without my mask, except for those earliest days at the Vytal Festival Tournament, as far as I was aware.

A few brief glimpses of a young girl moving at speed sensationalized by cameras, and far more interesting faces. A girl who most probably thought dead after being dragged off by those Faunus monsters, so there was no way at all...!?

One brief glimpse of his Aura was all it had taken to put an end to my scheming, a clean look without the filter of other souls to get in the way. An ability that had evolved to see more over the preceding months of training and endless stimuli born of so many souls. But this soul... This was so...

"R-Reika!?"

The next thing I knew, I was on my knees retching, and the Cahalrym's probing eye had moved on with a bemused word from the dour Plaga.

The hall slowly cleared, and Pino was knelt by my side in an onrush of worry, hands digging through his bags with panicked surety. His care was a balm, his concern a potent salve as my mind struggled to comprehend what my Semblance had made abundantly apparent. Metaphors tried to form, trying to apply themselves in a manner to a perception that didn't quite operate by such means.

To accurately read and perceive another's Aura was often considered highly advanced skill, and with good reason. And even then, the accounts of those Huntsmen and Huntresses I'd met - ones whom I'd worked up the courage to ask - had always described it as more a rush of insight or instinct rather than anything tangible as my mind and Semblance seemingly processed. Hence, the comparisons and such. Costumes to mask interactions only I'd ever seemed able to see, much like the mask I'd used to wear so freely, and now thoroughly despised.

Ma had always thought it a poetic little tactic, Bill wonderfully dramatic, and Ben somewhat disturbing... much as he'd apologized for the typical blunt honesty, and I understood his meaning well enough personally. No one enjoyed being told of how their souls melded in intimate moments, or how one's spirit bludgeoned and beat another as they clashed. And it wasn't as if I'd had the words to make the explanations sound any easier.

Beyond that, each soul was also a different entity entirely. Unique in a way that was difficult to describe, but it was what set us apart from the Grimm. It was girded and shaped by the emotions one feels, the convictions one holds, and the bonds and balances they maintain. I'd felt many over the course of my life. Enough that it used to hurt.

Beacon had been almost overwhelming, at first, which was why I'd gone out of my way to isolate myself at times. So many powerful points of light filled my world view, bolstering one another, burning as one, but all individually. As open as some souls such as Nora Valkyrie and Sun Wukong had proven to be, in the end all still burned alone.

 _'...So **why?** '_ I pondered, practically having to throw Pino from me as I fought on shaking legs to turn and catch a last glimpse of Lucas Violette striding from the burnished set of doors, sparing one last look over his shoulder in the direction of Captain Majorelle... or perhaps at me? _' **...Why** do he and Joel have such similar disruptions in both their souls? This... 'Becoming...''_

I could feel them if I closed my eyes, the very action making me feel sick with strain. My head was swimming, but I needed to be certain, gazing out to glimpse that faraway light to hold it in comparison.

The distant rumbling Tempest that could only be the man I acknowledged as my Leader, plagued by foreign skeins of fiery winds threatening to reshape its paths. A seething pool of water rippled at the surface as an inky _something_ spread, reaching tendrils that sought to consume... No, to _subsume..._ It reached for more, reaching for control... Reaching for...

"Reika! What's th... atter!? Hel... eone, _help!_ "

The last thing I heard before my head stuck the floor with a wet splat of vomit was Pino's shouts for aid, sounding so scared, the bells in my hair chiming at my ears so loudly... The last thing I felt the tingling burn of the scars on my back... And then... unconsciousness stole even those.

 _'...W-what...!?'_

* * *

 ** _-Benjamin Carson_**

" _...the flyin' hell is that thing, Ambrose!?_ " I uttered as soon as I'd cleared the threshold to my quarters and keyed the door shut, barring that... that _thing_ outside where I was certain enough of my improvised baffling I'd set on the door could keep things private.

 _'Ah, what do I know? Certainly not what that ghost can pull...'_

With a sigh, I whirled to find our newly resident doctor gazing about the messy little living space that I'd called home these past months. His bespectacled gaze easily picked out the specific oddities not quite in keeping to Atlesian standard, even more so that there was even mess to begin with.

Walls hung thick with charts and graphs, troop movements of forces Atlesian, Frontier, and above all White Fang keyed up in varied lines of scrawling arrows and vertices. Suspected or otherwise, updated and adjusted from every rumor and scrap of detail I and my resourceful little team of ne'er-do-wells could get our hands on. Not much, as it turned out, though far more than most poor sods in a world without the CCT would've been able to manage, that was for damned sure.

Or perhaps his focus was on the portrait that dominated it all, leaned up against a locked trunk, and visible throughout the room no matter the angle you stared from. A beautiful piece that should've been hanging in a museum currently gathering dust, or at least it would have if not for the pulsing, ambient Dust worked into the colors that seemed to repel all attempts at marring its glory.

"A Bordeaux original... And people complain we don't pay you soldiers enough. Not that they do, but still, don't you think it just a bit...?"

" _Doc,_ " I growled dangerously, falling back into my chair with a heavy thud. Robotic fingers tapped away at the desk. "Explain. _Now._ "

"Referring to me by my title, are we, Specialist Carson?"

The tapping increased in tempo and pace, a shudder rippling down my spine. A thing that should've been impossible, since I'd made a point of keeping this particular part of the ship running piping hot whenever it could be helped. The heat reminding me of home... helping me to think, more often than not.

Think about junk like this...

"And to think I'd just grown used to that nonsensical nickname. What was it again, 'Specs?'"

"Don't be givin' me lip, boy! I ain't askin' twice! Just what the _hell_ did you bring onto my ship!?" My only reception was a cold glare, and a huff of those broad shoulders.

He wasn't responding to anger. Not even... No, of course he wouldn't. He'd grown up in what could only be described as an aristocratic cesspit of savage heroes looking to write themselves into sagas, and step on whoever or whatever it took to get them there.

No, anger wouldn't work. I'd have to be calm, collected...

"And is it...? _Why_ does it sound like... like _her?_ "

"You mean like... Ah. Well..." The giant of a younger man shifted awkwardly on his own prosthetic, though refused to ask if he could sit. Whether out of pride, or he just didn't want to stain his uniform on the bed, it was difficult to tell. I had to be calm, centered, like Weiss always tried to... "That would prove something of a challenge to explain. The specifics alone would be well beyond..."

Had I snapped? I think I might have, that dent in my desk certainly not having been there a moment earlier. Ambrose having crumbled back into my sheets in irate surprise and unstable balance on that bum leg of his, decorum be damned.

"...You've read my file, Doc. Don't pretend you don't already know that I'm pretty damn smart - clever enough, at the very least - when I wanna be." I didn't need to shout - gods help me - but I made sure he understood _every_ word. "And I _reaaaally_ wanna be right now, come to think of it, so _do_ be a pal - leavin' aside the fact that on this ship, I _do_ outrank you several times over - and _at least_ try to explain to me why some dressed-up, AK-model mothball you stuck a face on is skippin' 'round the halls of the _Rock Star, actin' like she's Penny Polendina!_ "

And there it was, out in the open. By the gods, it sounded like... Not nonsense, give what she'd apparently been. Still, the thought of it...

"Right... That's right. She helped you and my brother at the Vale Dockyards. Against the White Fang, correct...!"

"Is it _her,_ or _not!?_ "

A long, drawn out silence, helped little by the fact I could actually hear the machine in question humming to itself idly, unconcerned with what was happening within, what we were discussing, or maybe it wasn't... Damn it, I hated machines! So damned...!?

"You were present, after Penny, _er..._ lost function during her battle with Miss Nikos, yes?"

"After she was diced apart in front of a crowd of thousands? Yep, that I was. Kinda hard to forget."

'Fighting' one Madame Fortuna Marigold, if it could've even been called that. Stupid bravado at its finest, at least until that had popped up on the screen. That little cat pulled screeching out of the bag.

"After _everything..._ " Jacob said firmly, fists clenched an jaw set. He'd hate the comparison, but rarely did he resemble his brother more than in these little intractable moments "...we... _Atlas,_ I mean... had to act quickly to preserve such an asset. I mean... _Gah,_ you know what I mean! There's no better reasoning for it, as you well know. Don't scowl."

To be fair to myself, it didn't sound great. Even so, I endeavored not to judge too harshly, at least not where the young Frontiersman-turned-Atlesian-turned-who-knows-what floundered with the right words to say.

"You have to understand. For all of her ability and raw power, Penny is... _was_ delicate in more than one respect."

Delicate enough to crush a White Fang heist single-handedly. To giggle and be awkward at parties, stand tall in the arena... Yeah, 'delicate'.

"Her mind; her _soul..._ It wouldn't be too far off to say that the processes behind her creation were the result of _purest_ chance. A sort of gestalt mix of memories, experiences, emotions, where even the slightest disruption could've been... _Hmph._ Suffice it to say that given the state she was left in, not to mention coupled with the Grimm and overall situation in Vale, we were hardly given the best conditions with which to... operate."

" _...Spectre,_ was it? 'Fore everything went tits up," I remembered, my peerless memory drifting back to that blasted night. Standing there, trying to absorb the enormity of the task Ironwood was dropping in my lap, which was the lightest moment of the night, ironically. An Atlesian decked out in full kit, helmet and all, marching up with a sliver of silver circuitry, and a few chunks of hardware. "I can't believe...! Ya had him rootin' around inside that little girl's skull!"

"And now we have something of her _back,_ Carson!" he spat back with a touch of real defense in his voice, uncharacteristic for him, if not for his family. "Or would you rather her legacy continue on with simply being the mechanical oddity Pyrrha Nikos put down in front of thousands, as you yourslef put it?"

"Ain't nothin' ' _simple_ ' 'bout it, boy! You and the General made a choice, tried to use her as some sorta...!"

"Why do you think it was so important!?" he shouted me down, using those big lungs for once, catching me off guard with a display of uncommon emotion. "I had a responsibility to both her and her father, and I _failed!..._ Spare me the guilt trip, Carson. My brother made himself his thoughts in regards to our actions quite clear. Compared to him, your distaste is like _... Tch._ " The boy bit his tongue and sighed heavily, broad shoulders slumping. "Believe me or don't. I hardly care. But Penny _chose_ for herself. It was Dr. Polendina's one stipulation, the one even the _General_ need comply to. We _didn't_ force her."

 _'...Didn't mean they didn't use her. Just like Pyrrha, then... Cosarn it...'_

"...You never answered my question, I noticed." Jacob looked up, nodding his head n recognition of a topic best left in the dust. The better for both of us, really. Besides, my temper was still up, yet to be satisfied. "Is. It. _Her?"_

"Carson... I don't think anyone alive is truly qualified to answer that question," he admitted, and he meant it, too. I could tell by the way he squirmed in place, a twitch above the eye. Guilt warring with logic warring with the fact he'd been party to something, and wasn't quite sure what. "At least Joel didn't seem to think so when he first stumbled unto the secret. Matters of the soul, and such."

Lovely. Always nice to know the older Ambrose wouldn't have approved...

" _Try._ " It wasn't a request. Things had gone much too far for that sort of luxury. "What is she, then?"

"The million Lien question... More than that, even." A poor attempt at a joke. _Very_ poor... "Penny's... We'll call him her father; the original certainly did. Anyway, together, we took what little we had left - shattered bits and puzzle squares, really - and tried to piece the girl we knew back together. Only imagine that those shards are from a dozen different vases of varying shapes, or that the pieces don't have edges, not to mention you're missing half the blasted board..." He trailed off and cleared his throat abruptly, realizing he was rambling, and I, despite my earlier boasts, was floundering fast. "We retrieved what we could, more pieces having been sent back after we reclaimed Amity, but by that point, we... had to improvise."

"Meaning?"

" _Meaning_ if we didn't have all the pieces, we could, at the very least, try to fashion those that proved similar." He frowned at the analogy, though it was apparently the best thing he had. His brow furrowing with the effort of containing a full explanation, one that would probably see my mind melting, or an overreaction neither of us wished to see. "A _shadow_ of sorts. That's what's out there. Built around what memories and emotional engrams could be salvaged, coupled with surveillance recordings taken of and from the original. Mannerisms, vocal patterns, and cues for interaction-based analysis, _ALLISON_ and my own submissions and experiences. It was a crude process, but it was based on _her._ "

"So it's playin' Penny? Some mouthpiece actin' like her?"

"No, that's not what...!" He halted, drawing in a steadying breath while his fingers tapped away at his prosthetic in eerie imitation of my own. "It's... _She's_ her own person. We've just built her 'experiences' and 'notions' with the original as a template; a sounding board for comparison. If anything, she uses them as something of an inspiration. She even answers to the original's name designate... She'll even answer to 'Penny,' I expect, though it's best to call her ' _Polendina_ ' for the moment, at least for now."

"And the point of that bein'?" I frowned, jaw tense. "Hardly seems right, said out loud like that."

"It's still in early stages of development when it comes to interactions and nascent Aura generation." More half-formed gestures from his hands this time, as though attempting to mime or mummer his meaning, when in truth, it just seemed ridiculous. I told him as much, his face pinched. "Defining that she's an individual - that she isn't some a copy of a copy of a copy - is _crucial._ Especially in the eyes of those that knew the original... that knew Penny firsthand. It's actualization."

"Mad fuckin' science, more like." A truly Max-like growl spilled from my lips, hand twitching for the empty flask in my pocket just thinking about it, however many pretty words they used to describe it. Then the major issue... "And you want me to take her to the godsdamn Frontier as what? Some kinda test run?"

"You're oversimplifying...!"

"Tell me somethin'. Have you actually gone as _insane_ as your brother!? 'Cause he at least had the self-sense to admit it!"

"It was _HER_ choice! _She_ offered!" We were both standing now, me at my desk, and him just towering over all, soft bulk and Frontier stubbornness rolled into a neat little package too smart for its own good. "Polendina _offered..._ I explained the risks as best I could, and she _still_ said yes. She chose for herself, just like anyone... Just like Penny did at the start."

"...Right. S'pose she did," I said, crossing my arms and wincing slightly as I always did upon noticing how natural the motion looked despite, not being able to truly feel one half of the equation. "And we all remember how she ended up, right?"

* * *

Suffice it to say, the rest of the conversation had rather petered off from there, a lot of awkward glares and too many followup notes and unnecessary minutia. Interrupted only by a harried ensign notifying me that we'd long since cleared Atlesian airspace, for what it was worth, communications well and truly cut off.

I spent hours poring over maps, and drawing up potential routes based off the most recent charts of the region - the most recent of which was first drawn up when paper was still the preferred form of data collection in Atlas - doing our best to fill the heavy silences punctuated with naught but the constant thrum of engines vibrating beneath our feet.

Worse of all was when Penn... _Polendina_ \- gods, if I'd have it hard with that distinction - had stuck her chrome-plated skull inside to inquire if either of us required a massage or some tea. All in that same, digitally-rendered, cheery, honey-sweet voice I remembered so well. Maybe an octave or two lower, if just similar enough for my mind to confuse.

Thankfully enough, it had only proved a short trial, the meeting ending on Ambrose's request, claiming he was tired or some such, though I think it had been clear even to him that my heart simply hadn't been in it. Not with those green lenses pretending not to stare at me from the corner of its... _her_...

Dammit - and damn me, too - this would take time.

I was looking for a distraction - _anything_ \- even willing to sit through one of dear Sergeant Hemlock's security overviews in full if it would allow for some relief.

"B-Ben, I've got...! _Whew!_ I got...! _Rrgh,_ c'mon, ya dang...!"

A distraction wonderfully provided by one Cherry Rouge, the redheaded mech pilot catching Echo and I as we bid the young professor farewell back to whatever cramped corner of the _Rock Star_ that he'd carved out for himself with my permission. My aide pulled one of his usual fumbling half-formal greetings as if I, the Trappers, and most the rest of the ship didn't already know about their little off-duty liaisons. Thing is, I couldn't really work up the nerve to tease him about it, something nagging at me.

Maybe it was the overladen suitcase covered in cutesy music notes and band logos that she was wheeling - strike that - _dragging_ behind her, whatever it contained proving rather cumbersome. Yeah, that was probably it... Definitely. That, and the bright excitement written across her expression. The one that I recalled always used to set snakes wriggling in my stomach.

What was the word for it?... _Ah!_ 'Foreboding.'

"Corporal?" She frowned at my use of her rank, but it seemed somewhat appropriate, given the, er... circumstances. "You... Uh, ya need some help stowin' that, or wha...?"

" _Bmnjhmnn!? Hmf thht...!?_ "

 _...Ooooookay,_ hold the Scroll a second...

"...Cherry-girl, did your bag just _grunt_ at me?" I narrowed my eyes, especially as her beleaguered face split into a wide grin. The same sort of look she'd worn back in the day when we'd gone and swiped a town charter for kicks, before drunkenly falling into some out-there shack... "...Am I gonna like this?... No, probably not."

I'd faced a lot of odd surprises and trials to dwell over these last few hours. A hell of a lot. A deep conversation with a man who I'd thought was cast from iron, with a heart to match, the revelation that a copy of a ghost walked the halls of my ship, the knowledge I was almost certainly flying this ship and its loyal crew to certain doom in a land I knew next to nothing about... Nothing _useful,_ at any rate.

Yet, somehow, the sight of Weiss Schnee extricating herself - sweaty, bedraggled, and muttering under her breath all the while - from Cherry's baggage absolutely swept them all from mind in an instant in a single, long, semi- _horrified_ exhalation.

But she couldn't be. The idea was for her to be on some random hauler halfway to Mistral by now!

"P- _Princess!_?... Weiss, you're...! Y-you're _here!... WHY!?_ "

I wouldn't know, and that was supposed the genuine, gods-honest truth. Plausible deniability, right up until Jacques' airship full of half defective scrap cleared the CCT net, his bargain 'fulfilled,' and mine as well... To an extent. I'd known he would cross me. A resourceful bugger like Bill 'Hangman' Carson would make do with even raw materials, just as we had for years in the Wastes. Especially with Mama... with _that woman_ to help him put together what could be salvaged into something worthwhile. Something had to be better than nothing, after all.

And above all, Weiss'd be out on her own, heading towards friends, if not exactly safety.

No... No, Winter would keep her safe. Winter, and perhaps even Joel or Rosie themselves, if my intuition was correct regarding their separate disappearing acts. People who would understand and help her. She'd be taken care of; _happy._ Maybe the last good thing I'd do before... Well, before I got myself killed in the Frontier, no regrets save a few.

That was the plan.

She _shouldn't_ be standing right in front of me awkwardly in that lacy combat skirt of hers, rubbing her arms like she'd just been caught cheating on a test in Goodwitch's class. _Certainly_ not aboard a ship bound for danger and more than likely _destruction!_

No... No, no, _no, no, no, no, NO!_

"Why do you think!? I came to help, of course!"

Yep, definitely her voice, laden fresh with a confidence I'd not heard since Beacon. A determination I'd long since come to respect, and, in my weaker moments, admit I found rather attractive. Certainly something that made pretending to be in a saucy, media-driven relationship for the tabloids that much easier. Still...

"Ben, when we first came to Atlas, you could've simply written me off, abandoning me to my father. And given everything you've endured, I'd have more than understood." She gripped her arm, drawing in a long breath before staring me full in the face with those big blues of hers, posture set. "But you _didn't._ You stuck by me, making sure I wasn't alone as best you could. So when Miss Rouge here mentioned this new assignment of yours..."

Cherry. She was watching from the sidelines next to a thoroughly-gobsmacked Echo, a godsdamn tissue dabbing at her eyes.

Cherry Rouge, the secret music buff and closet romantic despite a lifetime in the Badlands to educate her... staring at me and Weiss as if we were... like we were actually...?

 _'...Ah hell, she actually bought into the lie.'_

The answer clicked with all the steel of a punch to the gut, and I suddenly became very aware of the fact that I hadn't been very specific with anyone save maybe Echo and Fullmark regarding my exact relationship with the lovely Miss Schnee. I'd complained, of course. Defended her honor, made her laugh and scowl just as any... Shit, just any real loving boyfriend would.

I had subtly organized the release of his Damsel in Distress, if not in the personal, heroically eye-watering, leg-quivering manner she'd have surely swooned over. But two souls had come together to face a common threat.

One soul in particular who really, _REALLY_ should've been anywhere else!

...Yet... she _stayed._

Somehow... I felt glad. More than that, I was _moved._

And of course, rounding the corner after what I imagined would be his fifth and final inspection of the ship to make sure it failed to live up to his expectations, Mr. Spearpoint, himself, Edward Laura, in all his dressed-up glory, chose that exact moment to round the corner and freeze. His scarred face slowly but surely warped into a scowl at the sight of the Huntress-in-training, hand gripping his sword hilt in a shaking grip. Those sharp eyes of his drifted between us with unspoken judgment I'd be quite sure to hear at some point in the near future.

"...And I just thought, you need me right now. And I couldn't just stand by and let you face this alo... _Eek!"_ The Heiress loosed a shriek as I drew her into a tight, one-armed hug, leaving metal digits tapping at my thigh as I drew the blushing girl in close, shoulders trembling. "Carson, what is...!? T-this is hardly...!? Wait, Ben, are you...are you crying?"

"Nah, definitely not. Why would I be?" I lied through my smile, eyes squeezed shut as I mourned the death of a plan... Maybe not the _best_ plan, but a plan nonetheless. A plan that would've seen her content, and out of nigh suicidal harm. "Welcome to the _Rock Star,_ Miss Schnee... Glad to have ya."

* * *

-END

* * *

 _ **A/N: Bit of set up for Reika and a surprise for Ben on multiple fronts. The biggest probably still goes to Polendina hands down, but hey now Weiss is a member of the crew and Canon is even more shot through then before. How this changes things going forward? I can't really say, though Weiss' development should be fun, especially with a trip to the Frontier in the wings.**_

 _ **Know these updates are a bit slow in coming, tracking down solid works been a struggle and I've been dabbling in a few other projects in the meantime. Big thank you to everyone whose stuck it out thus far, y'all're the best. - Mojo**_

* * *

 _ **(Next Chapter: Revelations in dreams)**_


	35. Chapter 35

**_Beta'd by Da-Awesom-One._**

* * *

THE SECRET OF BASTION

* * *

 _ **-Joel Ambrose-**_

 _Ben had once asked me - tactlessly, and out of the blue, of course - early on in our friendship, when the shock of an unstoppable Trapper turned unflappable Huntsman still hadn't quite faded into easy acceptance, if I'd ever doubted my decisions on missions. How I could spew out orders on the fly, and never seem to hesitate or think back in the moment; second guess myself?_

 _Maybe he was curious regarding his father? Maybe he was just being a prat, getting back at me for early training sessions at dawn? I'd never asked._

 _But of course, Ruby and Jaune had - again, tactlessly - begged quite the same when they'd overheard us talking, with Yang even joking about it once or twice in passing. Such open attention had made me laugh, blush, what have you. It was all rather embarrassing at the time._

 _But I was a Leader. And in my backwards culture, that still meant something. You had to be present in the moment for those who put their faith in you, making the best possible choice, given what you know, and standing by it no matter happens, because you'll be the one living with the consequences afterwards._

 _It had taken time, effort, and more than a bit of acting... but I'd done the best I could, hadn't I?_

 _Still, despite what some might say in their praises, much as I appreciated the thought, Joel Ambrose could doubt himself as much as anyone else._ _It was the reason I'd come to Beacon, after all, for the good or ill that came out of it._

 _I doubted plenty in those days... And I still did._

 _Things like whether the choice to leave prison for the mystery machinations of an enigmatic Headmaster I barely knew and never really understood had been the right one._ _Whether I would've been the best choice for Leader of Team AMBR over someone like cunning Carson or mad Maxine._

 _...Okay, maybe not that last one._

 _Whether it had been my fault Max and Reika had been taken from us... having chosen to pursue Yang and Blake as priority... and face down that murdering bastard Taurus._

 _Liz probably would've ripped me a new one if I'd expressed the many, **MANY** doubts as to our presence in Mistral. Would've told me I'd been the one to save Akai-Hana, assembling a defense and slaying the Grimm... Ignoring the fact that I couldn't recall even half of that now, the snap of orders being given that I barely understood afterwards, for reasons I barely comprehended._

 _Not even to mention that the whole debacle would never have occurred in the first place if it hadn't been for me._

 _E_ _ven before all that, knowing I could've stayed in Vale, at Beacon, and not just for Yang's sake._

 _So much had fallen to the Grimm. So many lives lost from students to citizens to... to **comrades.** Didn't I have a responsibility to keep fighting like the Professors had, despite the crushing odds and abysmal successes? Velvet and her Team CVFY had stayed longer than anyone... By her blood, I hoped they were safe wherever they were. I wondered if I should've been a Leader like Coco, guiding her team, fighting alongside Teachers like Oobleck and Port... and int he meanwhile I sat, waiting for the moment my body had recovered enough for me to shift rubble, and make identifications at the very least. I'd wanted to help... if not fight..._

 _By the Kingdom's absentee **gods,** had I wanted to fight..._

 _But if I'd stayed. How long would I have been able to exist in the Kingdom without a support network, having lived without a power like Ozpin's to hide behind, much as that allusion pained me? Vale's Council would've taken me back, thrown me in a hole, and forgotten the key._

 _...And I just couldn't let that happen._

 _If that was the case, however, was that why I was here? Not for my friends or the world, but my own selfish reasons? To escape, and feel like I was doing something, but only making things worse?_

 _I didn't know. And I doubted. But I didn't show it... I **couldn't.**_

 _What more could I have done? What would've been right? For my friends, for my world... What...?_

* * *

.

..

...

 _...What... What is this!?_

My voice echoed out, a hollow, discorporate tone laced with panic and so much more thrown into this sea of pitch black smoke and choking flame. I was displaced, yet present. Distant, yet all too encompassing. A seething panic was building up inside of me as it surrounded and echoed in the haze of heat bleeding to melt the very air itself. Obscuring the sky... the sky... By her blood, was there even a sky, or had the flames stolen that, too?

An inkling of the heavens showed through the haze, but just a glimpse. There were fires in the sky, burning like a sun. Bright lights I knew well framing a shattered moon that I'd last seen fluttering on banners.

 _"...shall be surrounded starkly on all sides, both Sun and Moon hang above, one comforting the other weeping..."_

Old words spoken in a darkened tent of hide-bound superstition as a child's grip clung tight to mine. It was so tight, I almost broke more than just physically. It was something long forgotten, or perhaps simply buried and ignored for the fears they stirred.

 _No_...

No, focus instead on the moon; an old symbol. Her symbol... _My_ symbol... That I knew. _That_ was what I needed to remember!

What I needed to... to remember what? What was I doing? Why was I...!?

 **"...brose, Scion of..."**

I couldn't be sure of anything, only the knowledge that I was moving somewhere. Moving with a purpose I knew, but couldn't quite...?

And then came forth the sounds. Familiar noises I'd heard several... only _once_ before... Those of a city collapsing around me, the doom of its people. The roar of crackling embers, and avalanche of masonry, coupled with the screeching calls of monsters with shadow-stained hides, and coals for eyes eager to witness it laid low... The Soulless hordes of the Dark Goddess... _T_ _he Creatures of Grimm..._

 ** _"...e_ ep a level head! Don't...!"**

It was too much, yet not enough. A reality I'd last heard from a distance in Vale... _Vale_?... Magnified what seemed a hundred fold, and yet oddly separate... Disjointed, with nothing left to ground...!?

No, no, that didn't seem right, though neither did the elation I felt building in my breast... A breast that neither rose nor fell. That couldn't or wouldn't accept the air I breathed... or tried to at least, but couldn't.

Air I needed, but, no... No air... Why in the Queen's bleeding name was there no air...!?

I wanted to shut my eyes. I tried to seal them shut against the heat, but couldn't... Nothing was responding. Nothing was right! Nothing was...!?

 **"...losing yourself, child! Remem...!"**

Where was I?... So familiar, but not so... A colorless scrap of smoldering fabric billowed from amidst the flames, snagging itself upon a mound of shattered rubble, unfurling to reveal a silvery crescent...

Bastion... The Bastion of Her people... But where...? Why was everything so... so _wrong?_ Nothing seemed to be moving how it should...

I wanted to take the ragged flag in hand - protect it - only to cry outward as what must have been half the weight of a castle collapsed from above, burying the symbol in a sea of cinder-laden dust and debris...

My eyes, why couldn't I blink...!?

 **"Calm yourself! Control these... _my_ emotions, lest they guide you astray!"**

A new presence rippled through the madness, a ringing clarion that startled me back, even as I advanced forward on shaking legs, towards... Legs that felt far heavier than they should, yet somehow lighter as well. My balance was devilishly uncoordinated, leaving me to sway dangerously as I went, arms leaden like weights. The sensation was not unlike walking for the first time after having broken a bone, jellied muscle remembering how to function correctly... But it was worse. Far, _far_ worse...

Vaguely, I felt my shoulder strike something solid... but only vaguely, as if the limb were... detached, but overwhelmingly present. A gonging clamor akin to metal raked across stone... and the stone lost. It lost badly, at that, in a flurry of flickering sparks. A scant glance past the crimson mantle I realized I wore revealed a buttressed building, all hard uncompromising angles. An ugly edifice raised for habitation in a style I'd... _I'd lived in..._ No, seen only worked into the halls of Rowan's fortress, in Stahl's mad plans for the future.

A portion of its side had been ripped cleanly away, as if a giant fist had sifted it aside none too gently... or a shoulder pauldron of silver metal carved daubed in cruel spikes seething with aggression.

But why did such a castle look so _miniscule!?_ Why... Why did I seem so...!?

 **"...center, find your center in this!..."**

That voice again. I knew that voice! How could I have forgotten my _own name... NO!_ No that's not right... Wasn't it!? How could I have forgotten...?

 _A... **Akan!?**_

I screamed the name with a certainty I clung too desperately, another trilling roar from somewhere ahead attempting to steal away my focus. Grimm... _the Soulless_...nearby...close...HUNT...DEFEND...! Such a noise baiting a reactive anger that seethed through my limbs as older instincts stole away awkwardness, a savage joy at what I would do to...no no _NO..._ FOCUS! _FOCUS!_

This wasn't me, these weren't my feelings. They couldn't be, but then how...why?...

 _...Akan? **Akan!?** What's happening!? What...!?_

As though in answer to my desperate cries, something new tore free from the smoking haze of chaotic confusion and burning infrastructure just ahead of me, displacing another of the too small, castle-like structures with a flicking sweep of a ridged tail. Habitation blocks much like my own had been, like the one I'd grown up in with... with my family, yes... That had been me. Shrill screams and pained wails echoed from within as stones rained like hail, the inhabitants entombed, their terror only feeding the beast's frenzy...

Didn't they know? Such emotion would only do more harm, draw the danger towards them like a blight.

 _'Why!? Why don't the people of Rowan know better? Children of the Safehold Clans are taught such before they stand. Such behavior is... w_ _eak... Shameful... Understandable...?_

Especially in the face of this monster among monsters...

A looming reptilian horror coated in menacing, jet black scales gleaming in the firelight, segmented pieces of bone-colored armor fashioned into wicked quills along its back. A thing birthed from nightmare sifting ponderously forward through rubble on powerful clawed hind-limbs, bearing with it a maw filled to bursting with jagged, teeth-drooling bile that struck and seared the carved stone at its feet in whistling acidic contrails.

...'Lord Tyrant'... A name dredged up from somewhere in the depths of memory... _Ancient... Evil..._

Four fiery, crimson eyes rolled in their sockets to regard me through the haze of dust, widening somewhat in surprise, and a hint of wary misunderstanding. Emotions that soon bled into those all beings Soulless fell back upon when threatened.

 _...Hunger... Hatred... Malice..._

 **"...overburdened... It was much the same for myself in that first exalted instance, I know... But you must try and...!"**

Opening its jaws wide, the Soulless... _the Grimm._... screamed its challenge in an echoing keen that shattered windows in their panes, and blew ashes from tattered banners fluttering about the rooftops to join the glittering flurries of deadly shrapnel. Above all, t'was a sound that would've frozen most souls in their tracks, if not snuffed them out completely. A cry to slay courage, and birth despair in equal measure.

It was death, calling firm a challenge. It broke into a charge that rattled the pavement underfoot, and carried it several meters bound by bound as it approached with the intent to slay. To kill!

And I... Akan, Champion of the Queen's Frontier, Hero of Her people, answered in kind!

A hollow blaring bellowed in imitation of one of the great bells situated atop a fortress I remembered so vividly in both lives that warred inside my head, rumbled up from the depths of a clicking, creaking chest heavy with absence. The sensation felt altogether... _wrong,_ different from what should've been or what was expected. Flesh lungs didn't expand with circulating air, for there being no air from which I could draw, nor did my blood rush to caress tingling extremities primed for battle.

Instead, the sensation was as though the vibrations simply pealed from within, expelled in a deafening roar that was familiar at once as mine, and yet so much more.

 _...Glorious... Exultant... Terrible..._

An angry, trumpeting reverberation that uplifted the soul within, and carried far into the night. A Hund's howling chorus amplified alongside a man's fierce determination as silvered gauntlets came together in an explosion of force that sent cracks webbing up the sides of nearby buildings, and buckled the ground below.

So mighty was it than a few of the ashen humans visible watching from windows or rents in the walls brought crumbling to their knees, clutching aching eardrums abused under the assault. Terrified men and women in tattered, common tunics so familiar joined in places by greater souls, those dressed in black and silver combat gear bearing with proper weapons, and yet each could do little more than gape at the scene unfolding before them.

Not in terror, I sensed, unsure of how or why I could be so certain of such things. Not terror, but awe... Honest, all-consuming awe, and no small amount of reverence.

 _'...As they should at the sight of such a Hero! I am Akan, I am...!?'_

 **"...Not him! Not ME, you fool! This is false! Find your...!"**

Find my what? The old enemy?... The prey? It was right here, right in front of me, coming closer... All mine... and larger than me, too. A relief amidst this confusion.

Suddenly, all felt... _right._ The heaviness ever-present in my limbs since awakening in this strange, familiar setting receding, all while a consciousness that had stood clouded awoke with abrupt clarity of purpose. Splayed, gauntlet-clad fingers curled into loose spiked fists, weapons brought to bear with a lightning speed that surprised even myself for the absence of feeling.

This odd lack of muscles moving, of veins expanding... and my arms... Why were they coated silver, as well? And my legs... All of it was weighed down by thick plates sculpted to frame, and adorned in curling sigils and rattling totems I only barely understood... A child's scrawling?

But this was armor of a kind, then? Though I'd never bothered to wear such things before now, so then why...?

Musings for a later time, that curious disorientation lasting only long enough to bring a moment's puzzlement. Then the Lord Tyrant's spayed jaws snapped before unblinking eyes, and all became so simple once again.

A lunge that should have rightly snapped me in half met only air, an ungainly body finding sudden motive energy. Enough at least to weave aside in a flutter of silver and crimson before the end could take me proper.

Rather than the flesh of a Hero, all the Soulless received for its efforts was a firm jab to its flank. A probing blow to test my strength in this strange dream only, but one that nevertheless sent it reeling with a piteous keening squawk of shock and surprise into the side of another monolithic structure. The spikes about my fist had punched deep into scaled flesh with contemptuous ease before tearing free in a welter of black, hissing, acidic vitae that sloughed from the glimmering limb without mark or obvious injury...

Yes... Armor of a kind, and a masterwork at that! One of that forge-lover Stahl's pieces. It had to be... But still, I should've felt the blow, at least, shouldn't I? More so than I did, at any rate. The jarring of skin and bone - even mailed - met scale and sinew. The thrilling shock of impact rattled along my nerves. That's what I'd wanted... what I'd _expected._ Not this echo of such things barely registered, barely perceived.

By the blood of the Conqueror, I wanted more... _MORE...!_

 **"The rush of true feeling after so long. To be born again to both new life and a strange world. A thing beyond reason, understanding, let alone sense... But you must focus, Scion of Ambrose, now!..."**

 _...Born again... Exalted? That doesn't... None of this makes any...!?_

Sudden jarring force struck me squarely hard in the chest, the tail having come about to strike me in my distraction, and set me skirting backwards, tearing deep trenches in the shaped avenues and rubble-strewn pavement beneath.

A child's error set to the meager rattling of now shattered landscape. A frustration, one I now endeavored to work out across its flesh in the offing. Maybe _that_ I would feel properly, unlike a blow which should have shattered a rib or two despite my Soul's protection...

Once more, however, the armor had held, if only with a few new hair-thin scratches from where scale had scraped at the surface layers. Proof against even such a blow as one that only minutes before had shattered the side of a building. And again I felt nothing... _NOTHING..._ Nothing but impressions and slight fragments.

 _...Remarkable... Powerful... Boring..._

Snarling a frustrated grunt that was more thunderclap then mere sigh, I careened forward at a sprint that seemed to cover distance far faster than it should have... The people were watching, the crowd struck to meager silence... So small... Or perhaps I was simply...!?

The impact of silver meeting scale buffeted our surroundings with a concussive knell that stripped the air free of dust and debris for several paces, or was it whole meters?... The fitful nagging in my head was making such things difficult to measure with the thrill of fighting again; of doing what I was meant to do.

Why, I might have even smiled if I could feel my face. But I couldn't, so instead I took it out on the beast squirming as its thick neck lay captured in the crook of an elbow. The fist opposite reared back steadily, faster than it should have been, and far larger than I remembered...

One blow, two, three... Each punishing blow to its exposed gut came with a pondering step to drive the next forward, carrying both us titans along to the sound of splintering concrete, breaking glass, breaking bone...!

Each concussive hit shivered the air as scale and sinew buckled beneath unfettered, unfeeling gauntlets, advancing until, with a mighty, heaving crash, we collided into the remnants of an already collapsed structure, succinctly reducing what little that had remained stubbornly standing to so much rubble under our combined weight as both giants collapsed grappling to the ground.

Explosions rippled through the piles of masonry in elementally-fueled geysers as the conflict disturbed lingering piles of Nature's Wrath to violent ends, the world about suddenly fire, ice, so much lightning... I cared little. Not for the Dust, or the deafening clamor. Certainly not for the madness of all this. No, only the prey...

The Soulless ineffectually scrambled with tooth, spine, and claw against my thighs and torso in sprays of sparks and Soul-Light both. Increasingly desperate, yet unable to find proper purchase on the metal plating that encased them... This strange body that wasn't me, and yet was... A Giant in service to a Queen... A Weapon of Last Resort... A Guardian fit to slay a Goddess...

 **"...meant for so much more, only to wake to... to _THIS_...!"**

Together, the beast and I rolled about the ground like a child of the Clans wrestling a rambunctious Hund into submission, decorum and pride of honor earned lost in the sheer thrill. Jagged bone scraped across silver, fangs the length of arms snapping mere breaths from what simulacrum passed for my face as we rolled together through the elemental maelstrom churning up sprays of water as pipes buried beneath ruptured... And I laughed for the madness of it. It was a sound hollow and booming like the storm building in the heavens above, all the while the suffering ground rattled beneath every hammering impact.

It was an awkward, graceless struggle, to be sure. Nothing that should have been recorded into the sagas and histories.

A child in the midst learning to walk again faced with attempting to bludgeon a particularly troublesome vermin. But I was learning, adapting to circumstance as I'd always done. And soon enough, I found my vast, ungainly frame poised over a slowly dissolving corpse twitching in the muck, its neck wrenched at an odd angle, and it's jaw distended...

A messy kill, indeed, but merely the first... The first of...

Absently, warily, I stared down at the swiftly building pool lapping at my greaves. My awareness taking in for the first time the reflection staring back at me. A thing highlighted by flames and distant starlight. I couldn't quite believe what stared back to greet me.

A towering martial aspect built into the approximate shape of a man molded from the same silver the Queen's people so prided themselves with. A burial mask, plain but for the barest impressions of a nose and slits for eyes, glowering from beneath a tattered crimson mantle. Twin motes of vermilion light, the glow of a soul burning animatedly from within, present as well in the joints and in the crackle of Aura...

...But such was impossible.

This... _This_ was no mere armor, the limbs too spindly to bear meat within. And the chest... The face...

Without conscious thought, my hand rose, delicate fingers reaching up to caress what should have been a mouth, lips, a smile or perhaps a frown. A shudder coursed unwillingly as the reflection did likewise in perfect synchronicity... And it was this disconnection that brought it all back. Brought me back from the brink.

I was Joel Ambrose. Son of Thomas and Patrice Ambrose. Brother of Jacob, Scion of Rowan... Once a Trapper of the Red Hand, now a Huntsman of Beacon Academy and the fallen Vale, Leader of Team AMBR... Ben, Reika, Maxine, Yang... That I'd forgotten so much, even for an instant... I was rambling again, thoughts and words disjointed.

Above it all, above the rising unease and disorientation, however, I knew the old hero had spoken true. Focus... Focus and understand.

 _Akan,_ I said cautiously, feeling the old man's presence keenly despite the scene playing out in my surroundings. _What is this? Where have you taken me? What are you...!?_

 **"So many questions... Do you truly not recognize it, Pup?"** The tone I earned in response was chiding, if almost wearied. A teacher scolding a student for missing the obvious. **"Look closer. _See._ See with my eyes. Witness the truth."**

And I did, though a part of me didn't want to believe it. Not really.

Glimpses of a stranger's life through others' eyes, even those supposedly of legends and ancestral tales I could explain away as imagination. Some mental defect born of stress, a side effect of the augmentations Raleigh had burdened me with finally making itself known, perhaps?... It was all possible.

I'd seen the like of both before, and, painful as it would be to admit, I knew I wasn't above it.

But this... To be _here,_ during _that_ night... That wasn't imagination. No Frontiersmen, not even a madman, would dare to envision a night like this with anything less than dread.

 **" _Aaah._ Now he finally understands..."**

We both watched as the giant in the past, this shadow of Akan, rose on unsteady legs to gaze through the thick pall of smoke shrouding the rooftops high above as though searching. Nodding as a scant gust of wind exposed the edges of a rooftop high above, a vantage higher than most, but how would this vast frame possibly reach... Wait, he couldn't actually...

 _Is he...? Are you...!?_

My curiosity was abruptly sated, as for a split second, all became nothing, vanishing but for weightlessness, heaving vertigo, and the crackle of abused air before finding myself... _ourselves..._ fixed in a whole new setting. The disorientation was momentary, the shock settling far slower.

The shimmering pool of stagnating water and the site of a pitched battle now ended sat where it would always be, far below. It had been the impossible Giant bearing Akan's soul and purpose who'd moved, instantaneously. Its broad bulk settling into place with a groaning sigh that might've been relief as the quaking building held beneath its sudden weight, if not without harsh protest.

That, and relief that its Gift... it's _Semblance_... had remained intact, that _Blink_ ability it had so enjoyed in life. A familiar expression of self that could be applied to this unfamiliar world it now sought to understand.

The Frontier City of Bastion, decades before, wracked by the single worst event in its history since the earliest days of its founding. A sight expressed in full view as the giant Guardian's gaze swept across a city painfully familiar, yet rendered almost foreign by the extent of destruction sweeping across it made all too apparent from above. Whole districts lost in swathes of devouring flames or otherwise choked wholesale in clouds of noxious smoke. And these were only the natural dangers present.

 _Grimm_... Soulless of all shapes, sizes, and classes roamed the proud symbol of humanity's defiance unchecked with crass impunity. Slinking through avenues in packs dozens strong, crawling along the sides of buildings to snatch at the civilians cowering in their holds, born aloft on flapping or buzzing wings, and swooping down on what little flashes of resistance remained from the Huntsmen and Huntresses that seemed all too few.

Aegis Academy itself was being assailed on all sides, ballista and archaic gun emplacements spitting retaliation where they could, but clearly only just stemming the tide.

And above all, that looming Wall standing sentinel in the distance, ever-present and all-encompassing. A silver sheathed edifice this Akan recognized as having existed only in that madman Stahl's wildest dreams on paper... A wall I had grown up enclosed by, and subtly resenting... which had been shattered several wide sections. Fires lined its battlements, outlining struggling shapes both man and things too terrible to describe...

And in the midst of it all was this construct, a Hero staring at what could only be the sight of his Queen's city dying. But this was impossible. Nothing like this had ever been spoken of...

 **"...Hidden, for good reason. Imagine a world, a Remnant, that learned such things as We existed..."**

Akan's words, they made sense in a way. Whatever this... this _thing_ was that bore his soul, it was powerful. Exceedingly so. A massive Grimm that would have proven challenging for even a full Team of Huntsman had been brought down with barely any concern, and this while it was still learning to walk and move...

How could anyone, especially men like James Ironwood, the Kingdoms' Councils, let alone the other Headmasters of Remnant, see this as anything else _but_ a weapon?

That it bore the soul and mind of a person, of a hero, like Akan of the Safehold Clans. A man renowned and revered throughout an entire culture for his peerless prowess in battle should prove chilling enough in the minds of an enemy, and that it could actually somehow use his Semblance as well was...

Wait a second. What had he just...!?

 ** _We!?_**

 **" _Of course!_ I'm not alone in your head am I? Why would I be alone here?"**

In truth, I didn't have answer to that simple announcement, though disbelief openly colored what I could feel of my presence. The words made sense, but the meaning didn't quite land. This voice in my head, this ghost, had to be speaking nonsense. He just had to be.

But then I saw them... and all my doubts turned to so many ashes akin to those fluttering about on the wind. Winds which picked up in a fresh gust along the byways, dispersing the pall of brackish debris, and setting what few tapestries that still hung fluttering in the breeze as a figure alighted across a building a few dozen meters distant.

One that stood several meters tall, despite moving with feather light leaps that had carried her from tower to rooftop with impunity, as if the air currents beneath bolstered and supported her every step.

As they should, for they did... this creature lacking the impish smiles and delicate features she'd bore in life, but those deft movements unmistakable to any who had known her. _Kara..._ Hero of the Frontier, Confidant of Rowan, Leader of her Honor Guard...

Svelte of form, sheathed in the same tempered silver as Akan was but sleeker, almost delicate. A golden mantle split into streaming strips of brightly-colored cloth fluttering about idly as shimmering fingertips brought forth a slender silver short bow bound by woven bands. Its design seemingly more art than weapon, and bearing no arrows. Rather, the air itself seemed to ripple into shape for the briefest instant as arm drew back, and re-curved limbs creaked and clicked with the grinding of weapons-craft, fingers splayed in habits exactly as Akan remembered, and I now witnessed firsthand.

Arrayed beneath her lay a street beset by the Soulless hordes of all sort, hulking lupines, wriggling reptiles, shrieking things that defied simple classification. All charged en mass down the causeway laid out so invitingly, and all were brought low as the force of a whirlwind tore through their ranks and the length of entire avenues utterly upon the string's release.

Either ripped apart under the sheer magnitude of wind shear and shrapnel, or otherwise blown off their clawed feet to splatter along the sides of neighboring buildings.

Such power as she'd born in life, only magnified by size and sheer vindictive wrath in the face of a home - even one so different - besieged... And she was only the first.

Further off towards the center of the settlement, at the foot of the mountain upon which Aegis Fortress sat, stood Bastion's forge works. A vast complex built with the sole aim of taking what scant materials could be drawn from the surrounding environs, and turning them to use, be they weapons with which to combat the Grimm or simple building tools to aid in the construction and expansion of a city whose boundaries were set long before. Built up steadily over generations by the careful hand of smith and craftsman.

All of it was now consumed by the flames that had once been safely, if forever barely contained within. Flames through which a Goliath capered and stomped through on its lumbering way towards the Fortress proper, intent on the civilians doubtless cowering within.

Flames that were swiftly receding as though siphoned, receding into the frame of another such Giant, this one sporting a green tabard, singed and stained. It's design broader and blunter even than Akan's, and only seeming to expand with the stolen power of the heat siphoned by his own Gift. All the better to support the weight massive forge-hammer it carried in one mailed fist, the other supporting a long spike as one might use for delicate engraving work. Tools by which the silversmith _Stahl_ had made his living, both before and after the great conquests of his Queen, and now served well once more as a single, well-placed swing tore the enormous Grimm's head from its neck, and brought it low.

Another worked nearby, spindly to the point of apparent fragility, with an ash-painted scarf that once had been white about its shoulders stood what must've been _Albedo._

What had once been a foreign magus and inventor, a man who'd washed ashore a beggar, and had come to reveal to the whole of the Frontier the wonders of Nature's Wrath amidst other wonders of his 'science,' now stood protectively over what appeared to be a collapsed tram car in which a dozen Aegis Huntsmen had taken shelter against an encroaching horde of simian Soulless, and now watched silently gaping at the miracle before them.

For all the once-Outsider cared, they might as well have been absent, a thin wand in its silvery hands weaving complex shapes that formed sparkling glyphs almost comically small in comparison to a frame many times the height of a man. Each, however, was the exact size for the weight of the task required, economically spitting forth lances of multi-colored light that immolated whole packs, or otherwise clipped the legs out from underneath the biggest beasts in dazzling displays of thunder or ice for the Huntsmen to deal with themselves.

Why waste a thing as precious as Dust on a thing as pointless as overkill? Clearly he and Akan... _this_ Akan... had never found similar understanding...

Finally, in the distance, though that it was seen at all only emphasized its size, a lithe hunched shape garbed in purplish tatters the shade of nightfall swung deftly along the sides of sloped buildings from the ends of thin spiked chains. Weapons that writhed and struck like Strangler Vines of the coast seeking purchase upon the unwary to drag up into the canopies.

 _Mammon_... The once-mute warrior moving swiftly, with an agility that should've been impossible for something close to twenty feet tall, crushing or otherwise dislodging what soulless beasts it encountered to wail into the depths below, dismissively launching himself across the expansive cluster of buildings to land rolling into a near feral crouch before the heights of Rowan's Bastion.

Rather than balk, instead the ancient hero reborn merely advanced with all the eerie silence his legends spoke of. Spindly, claw-like fingers easily found and exploited the faults in the wall's surface, or otherwise jabbing jagged rents to make such handholds to heave his tireless body inexorably towards the battlements, effortlessly scaling a wall dozens of meters high in what seemed like moments. One Nevermore managed to loose a startled squawk that rang throughout the city before a chain ripped it from the sky to dash it across the wall. Broken wings fluttered and faded before even hitting the ground.

This Akan of the past acknowledged his fellows silently, though I could still feel the impressions of thought racing between them on the speed of lightning coursing through their stilled cores and vibrant Aura. Noting their wonder at these circumstances, their confusion. Glorying at the success of their Queen's final desperate plan to ensure the survival of her people beyond everything. A chance to strike back at the Dark Goddess Salem once more.

But this was all wrong. This chaos hadn't been what they had expected. What's more, the one who had awakened them hadn't been anything like what they'd expected to find.

Not a proud leader of their people, readying for a final harrowing confrontation worthy of legend, but a scared young boy in the midst of his home's last desperate hours. The one responsible stood alongside another young, equally-dirtied Huntsman in the savaged remnants of a penthouse directly across from where Akan's savage aspect stood perched.

 _ **...No...** No, that's not possible._

I recognized him at once from the old family portraits I'd grown up seeing every so often, or upon the walls of Aegis secreted away in places of near reverence to achievement. Dressed in the torn and battered wear of an Aegis Huntsman, stark white hair that would've hung loose in waves past his shoulders were it not drawn back into a messy hund's tail, blue eyes that gleamed in the dim light so much like my own... _Exactly_ like my own.

This boy who would become my grandfather's looked back at me with a face that bespoke a mixture of speechlessness, pain, admiration, and stark terror at the sight before him. At the revelation of the sort of power that was now his to command. His stocky frame was wreathed in an outline of blue, flickering electricity that simply wouldn't abate, the energy drawn about the startlingly pale Dust crystal painted in alternating blue and crimson currents. An object was clutched tightly out away from him, as though he wanted nothing more than to be rid of it, but simply couldn't.

His blonde companion, Tristan Mayer, was dressed in brightly fashioned combat gear of clear Mistrali accents, bore a similarly-sized object in the form of a pentagonal badge of silver, with the crescent moon of Bastion and Rowan worked into the center; an Eye, almost, when perceived at this distance. Five smaller jewels pulsing in rhythm with what could only be the _Heart of Rowan._

The _Heart_ and the _Eye..._ How did I know that? Why...?

 _He saved Bastion. **He** saved them. This isn't...! Th-this **can't...!?**_ My thoughts seemed echoing, my grip on this memory receding as the world steadily began to darken once more. _He was the ' **Demon of Bastion,** ' wasn't he? He never said anything about this. He never knew anything about this! He can't have! He wouldn't have kept... He'd **never** have given me this if he...!_

 **"Tell me, Pup. How does one man, regardless of his talents, save an entire city the size of your home from a Soulless horde of monsters in just one night?"** Akan asked as we stood together in one body, staring down at a young Kenneth Ambrose. My whole world was reeling, and not just from the encroaching darkness that foretold another jarring dislocation. **"The hard truth is, he _didn't._ He simply called on others more suited to do it for him."**

Of course, those memories of the aftermath came too. Akan, _this_ Akan dwelling as a passenger in the head of my grandfather just as he now was in mine. Guiding him along in step alongside the others. Reshaping the story of Kenneth Ambrose into a hero who'd survived this awful catastrophe, and would go on to lie to an entire generation.

Take credit for the deeds of others for necessity's sake. Those that bore witness were either disbelieving what they'd seen as hallucinations or unexplained miracles, or otherwise sworn to secrecy by the forces of Aegis, who in turn would take the truth to their graves.

All to protect this last great ace in the hole from those that might seek to abuse it. To keep this knowledge from the Dark Goddess' hands...

 **"And through death itself, by our Queen's Maiden magics... _WE_ answered."**

* * *

 _ **-Kazuki Amaranth-**_

 _'Trappers are pretty strange, all things considered...'_

Weird enough in that I was even considering such a thing at all, brow furrowing as my bough nearly slipped in hand from lack of attention. The motion was almost like flubbing a key chord in the midst of the second variation, though saved with a hasty adjustment to the pace of tempo, kicking what had once been a charming melodic ditty into something jauntier.

Not my most inventive transition, I mused, tail swishing in time with the new rhythm. Probably something Gramps... gods bless him, would've balked as something nontraditional, while Mama... while she might've winked and clapped along with the humans we entertained, ears twitching atop her head in pride as I worked the fiddle and my crowd with the same grace.

Inspired or not, it was still something of a move my new, er... sitting ' _partner_ ' didn't quite appreciate so fully. What was her word again? Philis... something? ' _Philistine,'_ right! Whatever that meant...

Frankly, I was of the opinion that these dour sorts oughtta be thanking me for the timely distraction.

My magic... My 'Semblance,' according to Briar lady, spurred off an abrupt outcry of cheering to cut through the tension of living in the middle of nowhere. This time, though, they were burdened by the presence of what were clearly soldiers and foreign invaders, tactfully ignored so long as they didn't interfere with one's livelihood, that could drain on any soul.

My magic uplifted such things, and made people forget their worries, if only for a little while. Neighbors who grumbled over one another's foible were now laughing and bobbing along, kids that wouldn't stop crying suddenly burbling happily, while stressed parents got a bit of relief.

People weren't supposed to fight. That's what Gramps and Mama had always spouted off; their little philosophy. The one little remnant of those they'd left behind, or so they'd claimed. Those Horo-whatevers... A philosophy the magic exemplified in song.

It was happiness, and if my music made people a bit more free with their patronage, then that was just a happy side-effect for all parties.

A magic that didn't quite seem to reach the Trapper in our midst. Her mind was long since used to the wiles of my playing in the days we'd been stuck together. Or more she kept me stuck to her...

Those sharp green eyes of hers flickered with seething annoyance, and a poignant tap of a shapely heel that, to the woman's credit, actually played in rather appropriately. A soft rendition of a popular Mistrali lay carol built into an unexpected serenade seeming more at home in a tavern, even sounding vaguely... Vacuoan, perhaps? Certainly not Atlesian, those northern sods not much for anything livelier than a choral accompaniment, or some operatic descant.

Mama would've known. She was the one with the ears for such things. I just did my best to follow with the change as she had, the two of us falling into some kind of uneasy step. Not that those listening bothered to understand, too entranced by the little show to bother. Simple townsfolk.

The singer shifting her bearing entirely from static, regal statuette to prancing, showy showstress in a moment, the gathered crowd cheerfully delighting in her wiles. Doing pretty well, too, especially for a girl that supposedly couldn't use her arms worth a care, but could fake it well enough.

Those colorful skirts pleating her low cut dress spun deliciously, her legs kicking to the hoots and hollers of a distracted audience.

Even I had trouble recognizing her in the moment, and not just because of all the soft little touches of makeup and that chestnut wig she'd had me toiling over for hours earlier in the morning, until it looked _exactly_ right to her exacting standards. Crimping ringlets and primping lips to just the right amount of fullness, enduring snide comments and barbed instructions, though one had to admit the final product was... really _something..._

Why, she almost seemed like a different person now, as opposed to the rather frigid persona I'd come to be very, _very_ familiar with, this woman all bright, warm smiles and flirty winks to those more appreciative sorts... And the way she felt. If you weren't careful, you might not be able to take your eyes off her, her whole being so inviting, so...

I blinked those rose-tinted blinders right off, this time keeping with the pace and tempo the girl had set for us. I recognized the magic for what it was now, her little spell enrapturing those watching.

All the easier for me to move about in making with the show, gauging the crowd with my usual eye, if not with my usual, uh... touch. Focusing the magic on the more reluctant ,and playing their heart strings until they couldn't help but move for the crumpled hat I'd so humbly put out almost as an afterthought despite the rather loud complaints courtesy of my 'partner.'

One had to present the expectation, after all. Makes folks more prone to sudden bouts of charitable generosity. Otherwise, it's all just free entertainment, and that, if anything, just made people more suspicious.

Grandpa had always stressed... Ah, well. Not like it mattered much anymore. I was the little Faunus boy from a house of thieves and scoundrels in league with a Trapper. The sort of monsters I'd used to hear others like me talking about in whispered breaths. The same sort they usually reserved for talk of the White Fang.

Even had a fun few rhymes and dandies worked out, their sinister profile providing no end of gossip and rumor to spark off those nasty little campfire stories. Monsters worse than the humans they'd once been, able to see in shadows, smell souls, and always on the hunt for the next fat little Faunus to whet their insatiable appetites for the blood of innocents...

All of those tales were nonsense, as I'd come to learn, or so the Trapper woman said with her witchy cackle, before throwing something my way when I didn't change the subject fast enough. They were, however, strong for sure. Wickedly so, from what I'd seen, with ears like Mama's, if not even sharper. Every muttered retort or idle fancy of where the wretched woman could stick her attitude was cruelly noted and acted upon. Downright inhuman is it was.

But then the weirdness, the crass joking and the occasional moments of... _something_ that I'd sometimes catch her wearing with her guard down, was always swiftly covered up. And then the bothering with the disguise at all, the Safeholders and Reds stopping us at the settlement's gates, and getting an eyeful every time for each new face, one unable to hide bandaged up arms for long.

The lot of them knew fully well she was that crazy woman staying in the woods dragging around her little assistant. So what was the point?

Most of those early days whenever she'd go all stir-crazy, she didn't even bother. It was only when I'd offered the idea of singing for our scraps so I wouldn't need to keep risking my neck every time she wanted a feast that she'd started dressing up. Presentation for a performance was important, sure, but to the extent of becoming a different person before a show... Well, I'd figured it out fast enough once we'd finished our first set and started marching back, the knowledge just making her seem even weirder.

 _'...A Trapper with a spot of stage fright.'_

It might make for a good song, though I doubted any would take it seriously. I mean, I barely did, and my fingers still ached from the brushing... and the chopping, and the cleaning, the cooking...

I almost wondered if her first partner, Sleeping Beauty, wasn't just faking it. I know I was getting tempted.

Anything for a _teeeeeensy_ little break. Just a bit of time to myself away from...

* * *

"...this bunch of Savages. By the gods, how does anyone pay for anything in the Frontier!? Shiny rocks... That's cute. Chewed-on Lien chits... Utterly worthless. And... _Ick!_ Ooh, and then a... Huh, this looks pretty nice, actually."

I rounded the corner to the deserted side alley we'd marked out - the same one where my life had been so violently uprooted, as a matter a fact - at a light jog. Fiddle pouncing against my back by its string, my lip quirked despite my better judgement as I saw the dressed-up Trapper, sans the pretty wig. The woman wad hunched over, digging through our day's earnings with a child's birthday enthusiasm.

Her face lighting up for the briefest moment as she pulled out what looked to be a large fang plucked from a mundane beast of some decent size hanging by a slender leather cord, a handful of smoothed stone beads of a delicate shade of green hanging alongside. The small charm was clutched in trembling fingers...

Not much else aside from her little prize, all things considered, which was understandable, if annoying. Most folks these days acted pretty tight pursed, even with my 'help' to smooth hearts and minds, though occasionally one got lucky, and parted with a sandwich at least. _Rarely._

Surprisingly, those Frontiersmen had proven the worst and yet best of the bunch in both regards, concepts of fair payment and what counted for currency apparently just a little skewed compared to our Kingdom sensibilities.

Back when I was only eating for one and new to the occupied settlement, I'd been somewhat scared, especially seeing as most of their Red friends, and even the majority of the townspeople, were more likely to spit on a Faunus than cut them a break. Though not those foreign giants. Cruel in a fight, and utterly heartless, going by the rumors that they'd take what they wished, and left what they thought 'fair.' But not so much that they wouldn't toss a stray cat a stray scrap of jerky if pressed.

It was strange. They'd also treated me strangely, looking about, as if for someone, while I plied and begged. It wasn't the tail; not that. But they'd seemed nicer by the end of it, almost respectful. Only later did I learn, from the wicked Trapper of all people, that orphans and such were apparently considered quite a tragedy in the Frontier.

Every child was a community project, though how she'd know anything about that lot and how they act, I couldn't...

Right. Trapper.

"Well, it's something at least. Not bad craftsmanship, either. Should get a hefty..." My companion had trailed off at some point, my attentions snapping back to find the momentary joy replaced by the usual business and banter born on a glare.

Shame, really. She looked alright when she smiled... for a human, at least. Gramp's eyes would've been... He would've been...

"Well?... You just gonna stand there admiring, runt? Any news?"

" _Yeeeah,_ didn't you say you'd stop calling me 'runt', Trapper?" I covered the slip with the best snarky retort I could muster, affecting the little grin I knew set her on her nerves, which might sound silly, but was part of our little game.

She needed me... At least it seemed that way. And every little jab felt like a victory. Except when she glared at me like that, my courage dropping right out from underneath me, along with what felt like my insides.

"S-see!? Demeaning, ain't it?"

Blast, my voice had cracked from that brief swell of emotion. And worse, she noticed. Of course she did...

"Adorable," she said flatly as she slipped a foot free from her boots, maneuvering to snatch the charm, and slide it over her head in a not altogether distasteful display of flexibility. "Anything worthwhile?" I stayed silent, even if the effort felt like a blow to roiling guts. I had to be strong... I wanted to win. "Tch... _Fine._ Anything worthwhile, _Amaranth?_ "

" _Kazu._ "

"Don't push it." I nodded with a silent... maybe not so silent sigh of inward relief, and no small amount of victory. I watched the Trapper kick a fur-lined boot back on, stomping it into the muddy slush, and cursing under her breath at the splatter. "Now then, if we're done both asserting dominance, what do you have for me?"

"No changes, from the looks of things. Your boy's still the same as before. Weird enough as it is." I shrugged, thinking back to the long minutes I'd spent working my way close enough to peer about the minuscule excuse for a clinic without drawing suspicion. Especially given the Head Matron happened to be something of a witch. One with little fondness for cats or boys with tails, as it turned out... Lucky me.

It wasn't all bad, tucked away as it was from even the Frontiersmens' prying eyes. Excellent hunting ground for loose pockets...

"Thing is, he's not even snoring either. Not really doing much of anything, really. Well, aside from a few words here and there, but it's all...!?"

" _Words!? What_ words!?"

Again, it appeared I'd gone and underestimated just how fast this girl could turn about, even injured. My bum splashed into the muck, feet swept out from underneath me, those harsh greens leering down as I scrambled to protect my precious instrument from harm. Her face wasn't quite so pretty anymore... By the gods, I could go the rest of my life without earning another look like that. Teeth flashing, her own magic... Her Semblance...

"He's _talking!?_ Oh, you little...! You never mentioned he was...! _Rrrrgh!_ "

"I-I-I...!" I tried to speak - I really did - but the words... The words just wouldn't come. Not in the face of her spitting visage. A pressure was building up in my chest, a palpable weight. I'd thought she'd been irritated when I used the 'T Word' while she was in cover. Hell, I'd thought I'd seen her mad when I'd poked around in that weird diary of hers. But this?... This was what the tales were told about, I imagined. "W-what's the big deal with a few...!?"

 _"Idiot!_ What's the point of having you poke around if you can't even...!?" She drew back, chest out, and those noodles she called arms swaying limply as they tried and failed to form proper fists. "What did he say?"

"It... It wasn't like I was..."

"What. _Did._ He. _SAY!?_ "

Recoiling, my back and fiddle dug into the wall behind me with nowhere else to go but through the palpable demon above me. I'll admit it, I blurted, clutching the fiddle to my chest in the folds of my coat to spare it the mud and slime.

Best I could do really, and I was more than happy to vomit out words rather than the mess I could feel pooling in my stomach.

"L-look, I didn't think anything of it! It's nothing! It's mostly all gibberish, anyway, least from what I overheard! All grunting, and strange consonants from the sounds of...!" She frowned, the weight easing, if not totally absent. The Trapper was probably aware of and finally reigning in the effects. Good enough for me. It meant I could breathe again. "It's... I-it's not Mistrali or Common speech, and nurses can't make heads or tails either. They barely even sound like words."

Alright, she was easing off. The look on her face dwindled towards mere annoyance rather than the murderous gleam it had possessed heartbeats earlier. Just about anything else was preferable.

"...Fine... Fine," she breathed as though it actually were, tension unwinding after a few seconds of checking to make sure her outburst hadn't drawn any unwanted hangers on. Exactly how, I wasn't quite certain, her head twitching left to right in sequence, but it seemed to satisfy her. Relief, potent and real, flashed across her vision... "Anything else you wanna mention? Anything else you thought was 'nothing?'"

Well, no subtlety to that little jab right there. A flicker of annoyance all my own was boiling up past the fear, tail bristling behind me.

It wasn't like I was her slave after all, even for all her threats.

She didn't want to deal with the Reds any more than I did, and it wasn't as though she had too many sympathetic ears with the townsfolk that wouldn't go running to the Trapper in charge at the first sign of duplicity. Duplicity I'd seen in spades.

These scared people were bought in by the offer of some form of order, or otherwise too scared to make comment or trouble...

So yeah, I had leverage. I just had to remember it. That's right. Whether she bothered to notice the aggressive shift in my expression was another matter, her emotions leveling out... Stern, focused...

"I... Well, it _miiiiight_ be nothing, but the matron's been talking with the Trapper, though. The fake one, I mean." She nodded absently, her nonverbal cue to continue. Weird how easy those were becoming to pick up, though given my healthy survival instincts, I shouldn't have been too surprised. "From the sounds of it, she's wondering if he shouldn't bring in someone from their camp to take a look at him. A proper medic, or something similar, who actually half knows what they're doing with their fancy machines, especially if he's so insistent on figuring out what's wrong." I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could manage, working myself back up to my feet, and doing the best I could to wipe the mud from my backside. "Should've heard her unloading on the poor sap. Guess she's worried your friend's making her look bad to the rest of town."

One of those old matronly pillars of the community types. Probably one of the smarter sorts that bugged the previous healer until they caved and taught them all they knew to service their tiny little out-of-the-way community. Her reputation was key, and the thought that she was failing a patient, especially someone the Reds seemed interested in... Welp...

"Tried all the usual tinctures and teas, but seems all they're doing is bumping his pulse like mad, and promoting, er... hair growth? Yeah. I know." I said defensively at the bewildered brow rising, wondering what was going on in that pretty head of hers. "You'd think she'd be jumping for joy over the latter, if the former wasn't so, uh... y'know. And your, _uhhhh_... You're sure that's not a bad sign, and everything? That he's still okay?"

"Our boy? Oh, he'll be just fine. Hardy as a brick that one." She waved off with far more conviction than I could have expected. So much so that I might've believed her if I hadn't walked in on more than a few little brooding sessions in the last few days alone. "Most people... Most Normies don't tend to realize quite how weird our kind really is. Not like it's really advertised, is it? I mean, do I look much like one?"

She made to spread her arms, wincing even as she affected the most genuinely innocent smile I'd ever seen, bar the daughter of one innkeeper I'd used to see a few days out of every year along our route about my age. Could charm her way out of any trouble, and leave me to take the blame all in one go... Cute kid. Bit of a witch.

 _'Huh? So **that's** the resemblance... My girl's cuter.' _Even as I thought it, I couldn't help a smirk, this one better hidden behind simpering acquiescence.

"Big advantage in this case, and it works in our favor. Thing is, if they break out any decent tech, or if anyone's heard a rumor..." The Trapper - 'Briar,' her name was - trailed off with a tight-lipped grimace and a glare towards the center of town. The administrative center, the only two-tiered structure aside from a scant handful of bell and sentry towers, which was just visible over the tiled rooftops. "Dammit, it's that 'Trapper' we need to worry about, then. Figures."

"Wasn't that, er... obvious?" I queried, struggling to make after the Trapper's retreating back.

My friend suddenly had the lovely idea to start marching out into the throng of Misshu's somewhat thriving marketplace, bustling as it was with the few dozen or so hapless townsfolk that needed be out in the fading light of the mid-afternoon sun. Farmers from the fields outside the ramshackle walls, laborers looking for comfort, merchants hocking wares, parents shooing rowdy children under the gaze of the Reds and their dogs looking for recruits... The lot of of them were living what lives they could under the flickering light of strung Dust lamps, those few that could afford to be rationed off. All the while I was wondering, as I so often did at this hapless cluster of a situation, what the worst that could happen might be if I simply ran... then thought better of it. That pesky survival instinct again.

"I mean, who else would be bothering with you?"

"No idea, which was why I thought it worthwhile to have you check in for me." I winced, expecting a blow as her fist rose only to play it off once memory of her injury reasserted itself. The bump on my shoulder was light as a feather, if strangely charged. The hairs on my arm stood on end if for an instant. "Little lesson: always keep an eye over your shoulder for the unexpected; the ones you don't see coming. That's what'll get you in the end."

She grinned, what congeniality fading with the expression. The result was something altogether more sharkish, predatory, and downright wicked. Something that could see right through whatever attempt at a mask I put up.

Right... 'Cause she wore one, too, all practiced up in the mirror each morning for years to my handful of months. And by the absent gods Mama believed in, did it not make me wanna cringe away and run away all over again.

"But you know that, don't you, runt?"

But I didn't. Oh gods above, below, or whatever magic of her own she was weaving about my emotions help me, I didn't. Worse, at least for me, she might not be doing anything at all. That I'd stick around not out of love or affection like those silly sagas I'd sing about to make other kids swoon and adults weep, but out of want for someone that knew what I was struggling to keep bottled up, and could see the future I was gunning towards 'cause she'd lived it... A human, of all things.

That hurt like hell's biting, back-ass...

"Don't call me that." I actually spat back, earning disapproving glares from a trio of wives in their tunics and aprons.

All prim and proper that lot, nothing like the reality of the young woman marching beside me for all she fakes it. Nothing like Mama and Gramps. These were the sort preferring to duck down, and take what safety and peace they could, even if it meant cowering for the beasts, like my caretakers. Like those that had worn the sort of masks those I'd cared about had kept hidden in their bags to stare at and reminisce, if not wear openly.

Not at all like the ones my... my 'partner' and I were wearing to hide what we struggled with that lay underneath...

"But no. Don't you worry. Thom... Joel..." She breathed the name with a smile that quirked genuine, true and affectionate... "...He's gonna fine. Everything's gonna be just fi. _.._!?"

It was then, heralded with a timing fit for the worst dramas and comedies, that the chaos exploded to being around us.

A pale crackling blue pulse of barely-visible energy boomed outwards from the vague direction of the clinic with the clamoring effect of a thunderclap that picked a few notes off my fiddle. The widespread sting of it rattled windows in their panes, popping eardrums bearing commbeads, vibrating teeth in their gums, and busting Dust lamps throughout the market one after another along their arc-riddled wires.

"H-Hey... _Hey!_ " I blinked, scrabbled, and tore a path through the charged dirt of the ground I abruptly found my back laying on to snatch hold of hers... of Elizabeth's arm for balance. I shouted myself hoarse amidst the panicked calls for clarity and braying Hund monsters trying to assert order, wincing to mince apart blurred buzzing mess of cinders, hail, sparks, and whatnot "Hey, _Briaaaaar!... Ah!?_ "

" _Blast it!_ Don't you...!" My Trapper partner seethed through gritted teeth that could've gnawed through steel for the sort of pressure they bit back. Steam seethed through the gap... _Steam?_ Actual _steam!?_ Clenched fists tightened the grip exerted on my smoldering, fraying shirtfront.

The grip that was slowly building to choke the air from my lungs. Strength they certainly hadn't had earlier, and a heat starting to blister the pale flesh on my chest. My heart was pounding thick, heavy against the vice-like pressure.

"Don't call me that here! Not... Godsdammit it... Oh, gods _dammit_ , give me a _break! For once! ONCE, you petty, upjumped excuse for...!?"_

* * *

 _ **-Swart Pantera-**_

"...bastards! The whole lot of 'em, fit and ripe for the slaughter." I concluded to cries of assent, looking about the assembled council of the mad and bloodthirsty that I led... liking the sound of that even as the nothing occurred to me. "Packs Rawhide and Pallid both know their respective roles in the assault. The Main line will be providing support, Grunts upfront softening resistance from two sides, allowing for Pack Pantera to act as the blade for the finishing thrust with our fiercest."

I slid my hand across the hastily-sketched up map as if in mocking imitation, evoking the image of a proper bladed thrust for my captivated audience, building it in their _Brew-_ bitten minds, and making the details real; solid. The only way many of these bloodthirsty louts would be able to keep a coherent plan in mind during the fighting, their bodies carrying them through as mind and sense went screaming through the window,

It was a simplistic but workable trick I'd learned over the course of the months since earning a Pack of my own, from the flea-ridden Commander himself, of all people, the man feeling educational in one of his increasingly rare moments of lucidity.

One of the few times he'd actually proven he deserved his position. One I intended to take by strides with this latest success hanging from my belt. Not like I had much in the way of competition, that crab Kingsley more suited for administration than inspiring the troops, while that maniac Charlotte...

A cold shiver ran trickling down my spine, an impulse I checked long before it could make itself known to the rest. I chided myself over such a childish reaction towards the childish Spider Faunus. That she could make _me_ hesitate...

That little insect. A threat, certainly. Dangerous, and, though, I hated to admit it, her skill _was_ real. That girl was one of Conan's little proteges, but she'd been away on other matters. Hunting... but hunting _who?_

It mattered little. Nepotism had no place in the Blood Hounds, and strength of arms wasn't everything...

"We strike hard and fast before they can put up any real response." I recovered swiftly enough, affecting a hearty grin in answer to some of those I received in turn. Give and take. "Tear the Reds and their Frontier Savages' throats out in one stroke, then vanish before anything worse shows its face. Swift and bloody. The work we were made for."

"And what about Pack Argus?" My head snapped up to face one of the other Alphas present, Pallid, with an involuntary growl I fought and failed to control caught in my throat, her bearing almost responding to the threat though the young Pack Leader managed to hold herself back from any action that might have proven suicidal. The effort cost her, the white scales about her neck shimmering with a cold sheen of sweat that set muscle groups shivering.

Not so long now until she wouldn't be able to help herself, the _Brew_ clearly taking its due...

"Hmph, what _about_ them?" The question covered my own slip, the dismissive nature of my tone enough of a signal to the others.

"N-nothing, Swart. It's just... The plan, it doesn't seem to, well... include them." Pallid looked about at the others with those pale reptilian orbs of hers for support she clearly hadn't earned, their own eyes noticeably falling to the map before them, and the array of tiles scattered across its surface. "Maxi's not gonna be too happy about that, and she _is_ the one providing the material, and all. Also noticed that they aren't here now, so what's the play?..." She gulped, fighting back a hissing snarl before choking out a suitable finish to her statement. "S-sir."

It felt good to be in charge, and even better to exercise it. Too long had APEX been some mongrel gathering of animals and malcontents, regarded with scorn where they should've been lauded as the White Fang's elites. Considered monsters, even amongst their own kind...

It was their own fault, in most cases. That and Conan's... That damn, impulsive dog badmouthing the High Leader and her Lieutenants at every turn, tarnishing the movement with his sort of... _**BlItHeriNg, TeAr UndErStanDing StraIgHt throUgH hiS...**_

 _NO!..._ No, I was better than that. Better than such weak depths. So was APEX, and I would prove it in time...

"Argus is too small a Pack to be much use in a proper scrap, even with Maxi and that spitfire hellcat of hers, Marley."

A low-pitched chuckle spilled from off in the shadowed corners of the cavern in interruption, a moment's distraction heralding a night's latent irritation in my blood. Iblis, that damn goat, had set up his own little space apart from the others, playing with motes of embers cascading from his palms, delighting in the colors they made in the dank dark. A bad sign. One to look out for... A regression with the _Brew_.

Alone as was proper, most were still wary of approaching the former Pack Leader for fear of getting his stink on their reputation, which was a fatal thing in an outfit like APEX. But the declining failure could still make himself useful before he wound up chained up, and raving with the rest of the Grunts like so many others; the expendables. Very useful, indeed...

"Command's turned me onto an objective all their own to keep them occupied in the meantime. A clean-up job around the periphery that those louts should be able to scrape up with a bit of Grunt assistance. It's somewhat high-risk, but she shouldn't have complaint for the targets presented."

"Being?" Pallid spoke again, this time as conciliatory as a church mouse. If only she could better control her impulses, she might just go far in my new order when the time comes. "And from who? The Commander?" Or perhaps not. Too talkative...

"The good Doctor Falkner, actually." I invoked the woman's name with no small amount of reaction, hands flexing protectively to shelter _Brew_ cases and other hidden stashes. A reaction that I found even myself copying, much to my own chagrin. That the foul woman could inspire such fear, even moreso than the Commander, himself. The _true_ power behind APEX... "Seems like some special targets have popped up. _Red Betas,_ in fact."

" _...Trappers?_ Plural?" Whistles and snarls rose up from around the table at the mention of the favored prey, fists slamming armor plates while claws dug into wood and cloth. "And little Second Gennies, at that. The real fun ones... And 'yer giving 'em to _Maxi?_ " The disbelief was warranted, and I didn't bother punishing the lack of formality, a hand drifting from my _Brew_ pouch toward the hanging Trapper Mask beside it, still stained in what remained of its wearer.

A fun night... _**A gOod HuNt...**_

"Not my call. Falkner believes Pack Argus is specially suited to take on these targets, and ordered them forward. Anyone looking to raise a fuss, contradict her?" The question was rhetorical. They might be half mad or half rabid - a mixture of both in some cases - but none were as yet quite _that_ suicidal. "Anymore questions?"

" _Hmph._ I've got one!"

Every eye at the table turned to Iblis, his hand raised, and a grin that would've shamed a Beowolf carved across twitching musculature, embers licking at his lips. The ticks played about the edges of faint scars he'd born since the Fall of Beacon. Remnants of an attack by the Commander's own hand, or so it was said. For a crime none of us were allowed to speak of...

"When do we start?"

* * *

-END

* * *

 _ **A/N: Well folks, only a few big reveals this chapter, huh?**_

 ** _The reveal for Bastion's little secret has been percolating for awhile, since Finding Redemption's little flashback to Kenneth for the Night of Falling Silver all the way to the statues of Rowan's comrades mysteriously covered in battle damage._**

 ** _Kenneth's last secret, and Joel's new responsibility whether he likes it or not_**

 ** _Been awhile, but hope it was worthwhile. Thanks all for those sticking with this story, hope to post again soon!_**

* * *

 _ **(Next Chapter: Help derailed...)**_


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